According to The Harvard Crimson, 13% of Harvard students claim to have had sex in Widener Library by the time they’ve graduated.
They’re not alone.
A decade ago, Angela White recorded herself having sex in the library of an Australian university. The school professed to be “shocked and appalled by this brazen act,” which culminated in the porn starlet exulting in her tits being covered with cum. (White framed her act as promoting literacy: “I’m a firm believer in the power of education, so if the scandal encouraged a few people to pick up a book then I’ll take that small victory.”)
“Molly” was a librarian at my Christian college. She was the nerdy librarian personified: thick glasses, long brown unkempt hair, frumpy dress. Her prim demeanor suggested that she had yet to be properly fucked. I often fantasized about pressing her body against a shelf of books, lifting up her skirt, and having my way with her in the stacks.

“Everyone has a librarian fantasy.”
Aimee Bender, “Quiet Please”
Rhonda was not averse to having sex outside the bedroom. So we fucked in the park. We fucked in her office. We fucked in the chapel. And we fucked in the divinity school library.
On that particular Friday evening, we may have been the only students in the library. Playing footsie under the table progressed to making out. I pulled up her blouse and fondled her breasts. We made our way down to the subterranean level occupied only by shelves of bound theological journals. In a corner, I undid my pants as Rhonda got on her knees. I peered out of the corner of my eye as she gave me a blowjob, the only witnesses being decades-old copies of Novum Testamentum. Then she got on her hands and knees, pulled up her skirt, and pulled down her panties. I got behind her, slipped myself inside her, and started pumping. The strain of trying to muffle the sound of my grunts intensified the pleasure; it didn’t take long for me to come inside her.
And then we walked past the circulation desk as we exited the library as if nothing happened.