Bethany had been in the old downtown city library for hours. She loved the vibe of the place, with its long labyrinthine hallways and ornate woodwork. After being closed for decades, the city decided to renovate the library last year, and the main wing recently opened to great fanfare. It had become her regular haunt for the last few weeks.

She sat in her favorite study room, the one where the evening sunlight streamed in through the tall, arched windows, bringing a warm, comforting feeling. The ambiance helped her be more creative and relaxed, she had decided. 

But right now, Bethany wasn’t relaxed—at all. Her fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop as if possessed by some supernatural force, tapping out words with an almost feverish intensity.

She had been pouring her heart and soul into her latest book for the past few months—Stellar Fates. “It’s a sci-fi romance novel about two star-crossed lovers,” she had joked to her friends, pun intended. She'd spent months crafting the adventures of her two protagonists in outer space and writing about the obstacles they faced in trying to be together. 

And now the looming deadline for the first draft of the book was only days away. 

“I love ya, Beth, but no more extensions on this one,” her editor Kara had told her over the phone last week, “If you can’t get it done by next week, we’ll have to revisit our relationship.” 

Bethany knew “revisit our relationship,” was a euphemism for her publisher canceling the whole contract and leaving her with nothing to show for the last 8 months of work except the measly $10k advance check. If she didn’t finish the book on time, she was going to have a hard time making ends meet in the next couple months.

One chapter. That’s all she had left. But she had been working on that one chapter all month. In fact, she had lost count of how many times she had started over. A cloud of anxiety, dread, and stress seemed to follow Bethany around now as she constantly worried about how the hell she was going to finish this damn book. 

The keyboard clicked and clacked as she tapped out a line into her laptop. "He looked into her eyes and knew he'd do anything to protect her"—before quickly jamming the backspace button. "Fuck, that's not right either," she mumbled.

Bethany snapped the laptop shut and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a sigh of frustration. Her shoulders were tight from the hours of being hunched over the laptop. She reached up to massage her neck, feeling the knots of tension in the muscles. 

She should probably take a break. Get some fresh air, maybe get something to eat. 

She felt a vague feeling of discomfort permeating the edges of her consciousness. It slowly creeped in, tugging at her attention, like a fly buzzing around her head. Uh oh. What had she forgotten?

She checked in with her body, and the vague discomfort turned into a dull ache in what she realized was her bladder. She had to pee. 

Bethany opened her eyes and looked around the room. Twilight gleamed through the arched windows and the room around her was dark and silent. "When was the last time I took a break?" she wondered. 

Bethany looked at the empty Poland Springs bottle and it seemed to look back at her mockingly. "At least I did a good job of staying hydrated," she thought, with a bemused smirk. 

The dull ache in her bladder grew sharper and more insistent and Bethany realized she would need to do something about it pretty fast. She quickly gathered her things and stuffed them into her bag, irrationally feeling guilty for taking a bathroom break with her deadline looming. She zipped up her bag and headed out of the room, tossing the empty water bottle into the trash on the way out. 

The hallway outside the study room was completely empty and eerily silent. All that could be heard was the sound of Bethany's own footsteps echoing off the marble floors as she rushed towards the women's restroom, sweat beading on her brow as the feeling of urgency in her bladder intensified. But she felt a chill go up her spine as she reached the door. 

It was firmly locked. Bright yellow 'Do Not Enter' tape stretched across it, seeming to mock Bethany's predicament. "What kind of place would close off a bathroom when people were still using the library?" she thought, more than a little annoyed. 

Bethany hurried around the corner to the men's restroom, feeling justified in using it given her urgent need. But it was firmly locked as well. 

"Ok, this is not great," she thought. Maybe she could get one of the staff to open it up for her?

The staff? Bethany stopped in her tracks, a cold dread prickling her skin as realization slowly dawned on her. She hadn't seen a single soul since she had gotten up—no staff members, no patrons, not even a cleaning person. 

Bethany finally checked her watch. 9:03 PM. But didn’t the library close at…

”Shit,” she muttered, as it dawned on her how badly she had screwed up: in her feverish obsession with finishing the book, she had not only lost track of time (and her bodily functions), she had completely failed to notice that the whole damn library must have closed hours ago. Everyone had gone home. Bethany groaned inwardly, berating herself for not paying more attention. 

"No. This is fine. There's a Starbucks on 4th Street, just a couple blocks from the library. Just walk out the exit and you're halfway there," she thought, giving herself a pep talk. But she could feel her control over her emotions slipping. Hoping that she wasn't locked in, she turned right and quickly walked towards what she thought was the exit, before realizing she was going the wrong way and doubling back. She followed a few turns before realizing with a sickening feeling that she had no idea where she was. 

Dammit! The maze of long marble corridors that had endeared her to this place initially now seemed to be taunting her. She wandered around the empty building for another few minutes, before realizing she was thoroughly lost. 

Bethany felt panic settle in as the stress of the past few weeks combined with her current predicament started to weigh her down with an almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Her breath came quick and shallow now as despair slowly started to overtake her.

"Ok, you're fine. Just relax," she said, trying to self-soothe her nerves. "Where are you now?" She took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings, trying to push the cloud of pain out of her mind for a second so she could focus.  

The hallway she found herself in was completely unfamiliar to her. The walls were covered in dust and cobwebs, and the floor was littered with construction debris. Scaffolding lined one wall.  A tarp hung from it, seeming to billow in an unseen draft. Apparently, she had somehow wandered her way into some currently-being-renovated wing of the library. 

"Ok, Beth, if there’s construction, there must be construction guys working here. Construction workers need bathrooms, right?" she asked herself hopefully.  But as she started walking, she felt the dread creep back in as each hallway seemed to be filled with nothing but random construction equipment and boarded-up doors. 

Bethany felt a searing pain in her lower abdomen that only seemed to grow more intense with each step. Her legs trembled as her bladder struggled to contain the mounting pressure inside of it, and she swore she could feel a warm liquid slowly trickling down her thigh despite all of her attempts to hold it in. 

She was running out of time. 

She started to run frantically, hoping against hope that she would find a bathroom, an exit, a janitor's closet—hell even an empty bucket would do at this point. 

Her hopes grew as she turned a corner and found herself staring down a long dusty corridor lined with ornately carved doors—and none of them were boarded up. Elated, she ran to the first door—a crooked placard labeled "Staff" hung off it—and twisted the knob.  But it didn’t budge; locked. 

"Shit," she whimpered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to well up in her eyes. 

Bethany's heart raced as she tried the second door, and then the third, locked and locked. Finally, she reached the end of the corridor.

Bethany's mind was now a jumble of chaotic thoughts as she stumbled towards the final door. The desperation and urgency that had taken hold of her body were overwhelming, and if it weren't for the pain stabbing her bladder, Bethany would have thought this entire experience was just an incredibly vivid nightmare.

With trembling hands, Bethany grabbed hold of the tarnished brass knob, twisting it with all her strength; and to her amazement, the rusty locking mechanism relented with a loud “clunk.” She couldn't help but squeal with excitement as she shoved open the door, its hinges groaning with displeasure at being disturbed from their slumber.

Bethany burst inside and eagerly scanned the room, but as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight that streamed in through a pair of large grimy windows on the opposite side of the room, her heart sank. 

The room was just filled with more junk and random detritus: a few metal folding chairs—strangely sitting unfolded in a semi-circle in the corner, a pile of old electronics stacked precariously on a couple of decaying shelves, a large wooden table with several empty milk-crates piled on top of it. But nothing that was suitable for the business Bethany had in mind. 

Then Bethany spotted it. 

In the far corner of the room, an ancient-looking armchair sat, illuminated by a beam of moonlight. The upholstery was faded and worn, with patches of stuffing peeking through the dark velvet fabric. The seat cushion was threadbare and frayed around the edges, but it was very large and very plush—and to Bethany’s frazzled mind, it looked very absorbent.

Bethany didn't have time to think. Didn't have time to process what she was about to do. She wasted no time as she dropped her bag to the ground and feverishly kicked off her flip-flops, hopping on one foot, then the other as she stripped off her jeans. She rushed over to the armchair, her hair flying behind her in a wild mess, droplets of sweat rolling down the sides of her face. She shoved her panties to her feet and backed up to the chair, hovering her butt over the cushion. 

As she precariously perched over the chair, completely bare-assed, like some kind of peculiar gargoyle, she hesitated for a split second. The thought that what she was about to do was completely fucking ridiculous flitted through her mind. But before she could even process this doubt, her bladder completely let go.

A hot stream of piss gushed out of her onto the chair cushion below. 

Bethany's embarrassment at what she was doing vanished as soon as she felt the clenched fist of her bladder start to relax. An involuntary "fuuuuck" escaped her lips as she finally got the release she was looking for. This was a good idea, she decided. 

As her bladder emptied, a tiny spark of curiosity lit up in her mind. Bethany chanced a look down between her legs and watched with fascination as the stream of liquid that exited her body pitter-pattered onto the cushion beneath her. The threadbare fabric seemed to swallow it up hungrily. And yet, a damp circle slowly began to form on the cushion as she filled it with more piss. Her pee spread out like an oil spill, seeping into the cushion and leaving behind a dark stain that seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. It was mesmerizing, like watching ink slowly bleed out into water. 

As if under a hypnotic spell, Bethany felt her body loosen as an intense feeling of relaxation washed over it. It was as if all the stress and anxiety from the past few days drained out of her body with the liquid exiting her bladder. Her breathing slowed and her eyelids grew heavy. 

Without consciously realizing she was doing it, Bethany slowly relaxed down into the chair. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh as her body continued its release. The liquid created a pool of warmth between her legs with little rivulets winding their way down around her bare ass and thighs. It was an oddly comforting sensation, and she felt herself melting further and further into the cushion. The warmth seemed to soothe her tired muscles and caress her skin all at once, making it feel like the golden elixir was washing away the remaining stress and fatigue in her body. 

Bethany was surprised to feel a warmth starting to build in her core as the last little remnants of pee dribbled out into the puddle between her legs.  At first, she thought it must just be from the physical release and warmth, but soon she recognized the familiar flutter of arousal growing inside her. 

The velvety fabric, now soaked with her piss, pressed against her bare skin, creating a decadent sensation. She tested it out, shifting slightly in the wetness, feeling her bare lips glide against the sodden cushion. The friction sent little jolts of pleasure through her body.

“Ok Beth…you…probably should get up now,” she advised herself, somewhat breathlessly, even as she unconsciously started grinding her hips into the soaked fabric. 

She started slowly, moving her hips in a circular motion, letting out soft moans as the warm wetness caressed her skin. The soaked velvet cushion provided the perfect glide for her movements. She was shocked at how good it felt, how the wet slippery chair seemed to mold to the shape of her body.

Bethany knew she should stop. Get up, get her pants on, and make her way out of this godforsaken maze that calls itself a library. But something kept her rooted to the spot. A primal need, a need she hadn’t realized even existed until now, suddenly made itself known. 

She started moving more vigorously, bucking her hips against the delicious friction. Her breath grew ragged, punctuated by throaty moans. Each thrust forward of her ass made a squelching sound as it pushed through the wet fabric, creating small ripples in its wake before settling back into its original shape. The vulgar sounds only made her more turned on and her movements grew faster and more urgent. She pressed her heated core hard against the soaked velvet, hips gyrating uncontrollably now. 

“Oh fuck...” she whimpered, pleasure coiling tight inside her. She ground down hard, rutting against the cushion like an animal in heat, any shred of decency forgotten. Her moans turned to cries of ecstasy as her orgasm exploded through her body in waves of pure bliss.

Bethany let out a long moan that echoed throughout the forgotten corner of the forgotten room as spasms rocked through her core, her hips bucking wildly as another wave rippled through her body.

As Bethany's cries gradually died down, reality slowly started to creep back into her consciousness. Her breath still coming in ragged gasps, she stared blankly at the decrepit wood-paneled wall in front of her as scattered thoughts drifted through her pleasure-addled mind. 

“Holy shit,” she gasped. Did she really just do that? Did she seriously just have an orgasm in the middle of a public library, rutting against a cushy armchair she had pissed all over like a feral cat in heat? The depraved act she had committed was slowly sinking in, and yet, oddly, the thought of her own debauchery only made her clit tingle even more. 

She sat there for a moment, trying to regain her composure. She needed to get a grip. She took a few ragged breaths through her nose trying to ease herself back from the edge of ecstasy. 

However, the intoxicating smells that filled the room only served to heighten her arousal even further. 

The earthy, musky scent of the worn velvet blended with the smell of her own fluids and sex into an almost overpowering aroma—it surrounded her, permeating the stuffy air of the abandoned room like incense. Bethany inhaled deeply, the primal smells acting like an aphrodisiac, lighting her nerves on fire once again. 

No, she wasn’t done yet. 

She gripped the arms of the chair with a renewed determination, as she increased her tempo against the cushion beneath her. Her fingernails dug into the frayed fabric, giving her more leverage as she ground her hips down harder into the gritty velvet, allowing the coarse texture to stimulate her swollen clit. 

As her thrusts became more frenetic, the liquid rebounded off the cushion and created tiny droplets that sprinkled onto her thighs and legs. The moisture had started to soak into the carpet underneath her bare feet too, and she could feel each individual wet strand of fabric wrap around her toes as she curled them down. 

She needed more. She shoved one hand between her trembling thighs and gasped as her fingers made contact with the slippery folds of her pussy. 

She was sopping wet, her arousal mixing with the amber essence on the cushion beneath her. Bethany slipped two fingers inside, cursing loudly at the intense pleasure. She worked them in and out, grinding her palm against her engorged clit. 

"Oh fuck please..." she whimpered as her fingers pumped inside her soaked cunt. She arched her back and drove her hips down forcefully, practically riding the velvet chair now. The sound of wet flesh slapping against the soaked fabric just spurred her on more. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuuuuucckkk!!” A long guttural scream echoed off the walls of the room as Bethany came again; hard. Harder than the first time, harder than...