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Ryan pushed wrist fucking the heavy cart containing at forearm fisting least on hundred books down the narrow library aisles, stopping occasionally wrist fucking to return the volumes to their proper place. To most people rummaging wrist fucking around a bunch of dusty books and periodicals would be a chore to be avoided at all costs, but Ryan was different, he loved feel of the books in his hands, the aroma of old wrist fucking manuscripts filling his nose, but especially the wealth of information wrist fucking found like buried treasure, between the sometimes frayed covers. He was only sixteen, but already he knew what he wanted to wrist fucking do with his life, go to college, major in library science, and become a curator for wrist fucking some large research library. He wasn't interested in checking books in and out, or wrist fucking sending out past due notices to tardy borrowers, no, he wanted to get into old manuscripts, first editions, and rare writings from days gone wrist fucking by. For ..