Passing My College History Class
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Why I Love History Class, Part 1 free porn video
I was sitting in history class when a problem arose. Literally. I had shaved the day before, and now my groin was itchy. I tried scratching it through my sweatpants, but that didn’t work. I tried again, reaching under my sweatpants and itching through my boxers. Still nothing. At this point, my body mistook my intentions and decided to pitch a very visible tent in my sweatpants.
Luckily, I sat in the back corner of class, and when I angled my chair a certain way, nobody could see, not even the teacher. As far as embarrassment went, I was safe. However, this was still very early on in the hour-long class period, and my cock was rather uncomfortably hard. I decided to play with it a bit and try to make it go down.
I slowly slid my hand under the waistband of my boxers and began to slowly massage my dick. After about five minutes, I managed to quell the itch, but decided to continue anyways. I hadn’t masturbated in a few days, and I really needed to give my boy downstairs some attention.
The person sitting closest to me was the girl to my left, Lydia. She was 5’2”, 100 pounds, 100% Vietnamese, and had this wonderfully rich olive complexion. She was extremely intelligent, but it was a little hard to tell because she was rather quiet. She and I shared most classes together, as well as the after school club Math Whiz, and we were both in cross country. Naturally, I had a huge crush on her, but I was too afraid to do anything about it.
Another thing about her is that she always used a dedicated eraser instead of the ones on the end of her pencils. Which is normally great, except that this occasionally resulted in her knocking the pencil off of her desk with her elbow while erasing. Which is normally fine, except that this time, the pencil rolled under my desk. While my hand was in my pants.
She instinctively turned to pick it up off of the floor. I froze out of panic. She somehow didn’t notice, and picked up the pencil. And then looked up at me. And saw everything. Her eyes widen a bit, but just as quickly, she sits up and continues writing.
I was mortified. The adrenaline was rushing, my heart was pounding, and I could barely breathe. And I STILL hadn’t moved my hand. And that’s when a piece of paper from her desk landed on mine.
What are you doing? it read. Hurriedly, I wrote back, Please please don’t say anything about this. I’ll do anything. She started writing a response, stopped, erased, and rewrote it. Anything? I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, so I wrote, What do you mean? She shrugged, and the next thing I know, her hand reaches across my lap and rests on my thigh!
I couldn’t move a muscle. I watched with fascination as her slim fingers slowly crawled their way to the tent in my sweats, paused for a moment, and wrapped themselves delicately around my cock. I was in absolute shock. She gave a few small pumps, paused, then removed her hand and continued writing. I was confused (and a little disappointed), but then she slid the page onto my desk: Pull it out.
I was so nervous - carefully, I slid my sweats down to my knees, took a deep breath, and pulled my boxers over my cock. She smirked, and once again, slowly wrapped her tiny hand around my cock. Her hand was so warm, and felt so alien on my skin. I knew in an instant that no matter how good I was at masturbation, this would best it. She began pumping up and down ever so slightly, just enough to send waves of pleasure rippling up my chest.
She then did something that I will never understand. The teacher had just posed a rather challenging question for the class to answer. She proceeded to raise her free hand and answer the question. Correctly. While giving me a hand job. I still wonder how she did that to this day.
At this point, we were nearing the end of class, and we both knew it. She began stroking harder than ever, and I could feel an orgasm welling up inside me. I reached behind me for the paper towels lying next to the sink. I spread some on the floor and some on my chest for the small explosion that I knew was about to happen. I was very close now, and I looked over at her in a desperate attempt to convey that information. She whispered one word to me: “Cum!”
That sent me flying over the edge. My hips bucked a little, my balls clenched, and rope after rope squirted out of my cock, onto my chest, the floor, and the underside of my desk. She squeezed the last few drops out of me, carefully licked her fingers clean, and went back to writing.
I cleaned up the remaining drops that had missed the paper towels, and deposited them in the trash can behind me. I pulled up my underwear and my sweats just in time for the bell to ring. That’s when the final note hit my desk: Locker 413. After school. She wanted to see me at her locker...uh oh. That meant we were going to talk about this. It also meant missing Math Whiz, but I didn’t really care about that.
I watched as she walked out the door, her leggings hugging her figure that I adored so much. I bent over to pick up my books and leave, but then I noticed something - her chair was wet! Was that from her during...no way! Had she actually enjoyed that? I guess I would find out after school.
That’s the reason I love history class.
Luckily, I sat in the back corner of class, and when I angled my chair a certain way, nobody could see, not even the teacher. As far as embarrassment went, I was safe. However, this was still very early on in the hour-long class period, and my cock was rather uncomfortably hard. I decided to play with it a bit and try to make it go down.
I slowly slid my hand under the waistband of my boxers and began to slowly massage my dick. After about five minutes, I managed to quell the itch, but decided to continue anyways. I hadn’t masturbated in a few days, and I really needed to give my boy downstairs some attention.
The person sitting closest to me was the girl to my left, Lydia. She was 5’2”, 100 pounds, 100% Vietnamese, and had this wonderfully rich olive complexion. She was extremely intelligent, but it was a little hard to tell because she was rather quiet. She and I shared most classes together, as well as the after school club Math Whiz, and we were both in cross country. Naturally, I had a huge crush on her, but I was too afraid to do anything about it.
Another thing about her is that she always used a dedicated eraser instead of the ones on the end of her pencils. Which is normally great, except that this occasionally resulted in her knocking the pencil off of her desk with her elbow while erasing. Which is normally fine, except that this time, the pencil rolled under my desk. While my hand was in my pants.
She instinctively turned to pick it up off of the floor. I froze out of panic. She somehow didn’t notice, and picked up the pencil. And then looked up at me. And saw everything. Her eyes widen a bit, but just as quickly, she sits up and continues writing.
I was mortified. The adrenaline was rushing, my heart was pounding, and I could barely breathe. And I STILL hadn’t moved my hand. And that’s when a piece of paper from her desk landed on mine.
What are you doing? it read. Hurriedly, I wrote back, Please please don’t say anything about this. I’ll do anything. She started writing a response, stopped, erased, and rewrote it. Anything? I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, so I wrote, What do you mean? She shrugged, and the next thing I know, her hand reaches across my lap and rests on my thigh!
I couldn’t move a muscle. I watched with fascination as her slim fingers slowly crawled their way to the tent in my sweats, paused for a moment, and wrapped themselves delicately around my cock. I was in absolute shock. She gave a few small pumps, paused, then removed her hand and continued writing. I was confused (and a little disappointed), but then she slid the page onto my desk: Pull it out.
I was so nervous - carefully, I slid my sweats down to my knees, took a deep breath, and pulled my boxers over my cock. She smirked, and once again, slowly wrapped her tiny hand around my cock. Her hand was so warm, and felt so alien on my skin. I knew in an instant that no matter how good I was at masturbation, this would best it. She began pumping up and down ever so slightly, just enough to send waves of pleasure rippling up my chest.
She then did something that I will never understand. The teacher had just posed a rather challenging question for the class to answer. She proceeded to raise her free hand and answer the question. Correctly. While giving me a hand job. I still wonder how she did that to this day.
At this point, we were nearing the end of class, and we both knew it. She began stroking harder than ever, and I could feel an orgasm welling up inside me. I reached behind me for the paper towels lying next to the sink. I spread some on the floor and some on my chest for the small explosion that I knew was about to happen. I was very close now, and I looked over at her in a desperate attempt to convey that information. She whispered one word to me: “Cum!”
That sent me flying over the edge. My hips bucked a little, my balls clenched, and rope after rope squirted out of my cock, onto my chest, the floor, and the underside of my desk. She squeezed the last few drops out of me, carefully licked her fingers clean, and went back to writing.
I cleaned up the remaining drops that had missed the paper towels, and deposited them in the trash can behind me. I pulled up my underwear and my sweats just in time for the bell to ring. That’s when the final note hit my desk: Locker 413. After school. She wanted to see me at her locker...uh oh. That meant we were going to talk about this. It also meant missing Math Whiz, but I didn’t really care about that.
I watched as she walked out the door, her leggings hugging her figure that I adored so much. I bent over to pick up my books and leave, but then I noticed something - her chair was wet! Was that from her during...no way! Had she actually enjoyed that? I guess I would find out after school.
That’s the reason I love history class.
Alessandra
- 15.11.2020
- 15
- 0
