~Q U I N N~
It's the beginning of my lunch period when I push my way through the door of the empty classroom. I'm not expecting anybody, so I take my time setting my books out to study.
Over the past couple of months, I've sort of claimed this classroom as my own. I've tried and failed to find another quiet, empty place to study, so this has become my go-to study room.
It's on the third pass of the same sentence that I realize something's caught my mind.
No, I tell myself. I am not thinking about him.
Well... I guess I am... but out of pure boredom. No other reason. Not at all. But the way Foster—
Stop this, I tell myself again. You can't have him, you don't even want him! Although—
I let out a sigh through my nose. It's his reckless abandon. His disregard for social norms. His ability to not give a fuck about anyone or anything. He's confident, and individualistic, and hot as hell. He makes me crazy.
I look around the empty classroom, then towards the door. No lock. But it's lunch period, nobody will even be in this wing of the school, the hungry, desperate part of me reasons. Something in me caves, and I listen. Ignore the guilt, the shame for what I'm about to do. I've already made my choice.
I slide out of my seat to stand, casting another glance toward the closed door. I hop up onto the nearest empty desk, spreading my legs in one motion. I imagine Foster standing before me, his fingers becoming my own. I give myself to the fantasy, let it take control. The fingers of one hand trace the skin of my upper thigh while the other moves to palm my breast through the material of my shirt. I adjust myself on the desk, my short-ish skirt sliding precariously up my thighs. I go back to the image as his fingers dip into the wetness beneath my underwear. I moan at the contact, so very wet for him. My fingers circle my opening, teasing. I whine, and use my other hand to massage my clit.
At the first stroke of my fingers against the sensitive bud, two fingers slide into me, hard and deep. They pull out, and then thrust back in after adding a third torturous finger. The fingers slide in and out of me again and again, knuckles deep. The only sounds that fills the classroom are my panting, moans, and the wet sound of the fingers sliding in and out, in and out. My pace quickens, fingers fucking me harder as I feel my climax approach. "God, don't stop." I beg my imagined version of Foster.
He doesn't. His pace quickens even further and I'm so close.
"Foster." I groan, my climax so close I can almost taste it.
The door crashes open, but my fingers don't stop. I come so hard I see stars at the sight of the real Foster in the doorway, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hard cock in hand.
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A/N; Fun fact: I wrote this in math class. Also, there is a part two, don't worry. 🤭
