6th Period Statistics

Hey! This is my first story. I think it's pretty good, but I'm interested in feedback, so definitely give me notes if you can. Thanks!

Also, everyone in this story is 18 years old or older.

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Ahead of me, Mr. Lowell droned on about sample distributions and statistics to a class of bored high school students. I careened my neck, searching for the clock. Forty five minutes left. The seconds inched by, and my mind wandered to the cute boy sitting three down and one across from me. He had shaggy brown hair and stubble, large, 80's, aviator style glasses, and the most adorable, goofy smile when he got excited. He was tall, too. And strong, surprisingly so, since his friends were all lanky or overweight nerds. I'm tall for a girl, at 5'7", so I always notice the tall boys in my class.

I imagined standing next to him, my face reaching just over chest height on him. Then... My face, pressed against his chest. His muscles, his scent from a hard days work or from exercise, and his hands on my hips, pulling me close. I shivered. The thought made a wave of butterflies boil up from my stomach and wash across me. I imagined leaning up to him, kissing him, the warmth of our lips pressed together. I imagined my own arousal, the shallowness of my breath, my hips, thrusting towards him, eager to connect our bodies as we kissed, and I imagined his hands, still wrapped around me, still guiding me, this time not in but out, holding me back against a wall, teasing me.

Another wave of arousal, and I felt my breath catch in my throat, and my face blush. My penis strained against my underwear, threatening to poke out of my dress, and I clamped my legs together to keep it down. I looked around the room, certain that someone would be watching me. To my relief, no one was.

I returned to my fantasy. Our lips break, and I gulp at cool air, slack jawed, fully aroused, and still eager to return to his warmth. He lifts a hand to grip my breast, and I briefly debate as to whether I should be wearing a bra in this fantasy, eventually deciding on not. He pulls at my nipple, and I gasp, head bowed and eyes unfocused by the sudden arousal. Another wave of pleasure, and I'm sputtering words, suddenly anxious that if he makes me cum right now I won't have the energy to make him happy. But the tension and the fear turns me on even more, and I am awash in my own body, choking out fragmented words, "I... You... You'll..."

A sudden wetness in my underwear. Precum, bubbling out the tip of my dick and into my underwear. I can feel wetness on my thigh, too. I've never had this happen before, and I'm briefly taken aback. A saner person would have stopped now, calmed down, returned to decency. But I'm riding the crest of a fantastic, universal euphoria, and my sex addled brain has already spotted the bathroom pass, already tucked my penis up and into the waistband of my underwear, already taken me down, deeper, into the hallway.

I reach the girl's room, not the closest one to my statistics class, but one tucked behind the woodshop and welding classrooms, where no girls ever went out of their way to go to. I take the third stall, the only one with a door that closes, and pull out my penis, careful not to brush it's tip against my still pristine dress. I tug at it, slowly at first. This pleasure is different. Focused entirely into the tip of my dick, but it wracks my body invisibly, and as my thumb and forefinger reach the tip, I bend over, flush with pleasure, my eyes glazing and my mouth agape.

My other hand reaches up, beneath my bra, and I knead at my breasts, again returning to fantasy. He places his thigh between my legs, still pulling at my breasts, still guiding my hips with his hands as I gyrate my hips over his thigh, brushing my cock against his leg, up and down, up and down. My breathing is hot, and heavy, and ragged. The waves of pleasure pick up again, a melting, fluttering, electric feeling, building from my stomach and crashing over me. But this time, the added sensation from my hand is enough to send me over the edge, and the wave of pleasure breaks, for it's final time. I gasp, audibly, as cum, viscous and watery, explodes out of me. I lay there exhausted, pleasure ebbing to and from in shallower and shallower cycles, my breath slowly returning to normal - the high water mark of my orgasm still visible on the bathroom stall.