The Study Group
It was a usual Wednesday evening Lit study group. The players were always the same, the group huddled close around the pile of bean bags sprawled across the floor of the library, that dim room in the back of the house that afforded us the quiet and privacy we needed to study. The group was pretty typical for a small college. Jason to my right, the soccer player/percussionist, long and lanky with slightly too big ears that just made him seem youthful and adorable. Broughton, sitting in front of me, the quiet theater kid with dark eyes that slanted when he smiled, his longer hair hanging over his eyes. Robbie, the only male cheerleader in the school, with confidence and a quirky habit of licking his lips when he thinks deeply, to my left. Me, naturally.
And then there was Jenn. The group leader, always in command of the room of her hungry constituents. Today she was wearing an oversized sweater and soft, thin black leggings. She was barefoot, her toenails painted an ironically innocent pink. Her hair was in a loose braid and tucked over her shoulder as she thoughtlessly twirled her pen over her lips as she read her book, leaning back relaxed over the bean bag, sitting immediately to my right. All of us covertly watched her, pretending to read our books, but sneaking looks at that place where the shirt met the leggings, right below her hip, where we could see the curve peek out from underneath, or at her lips as the pen glided and rolled across them, or at her chest as it rose when she sighed in frustration.
Jenn and her entourage
, I chuckled to myself.
It all happened in an instant. Jenn stopped twirling her pen for a moment like she had an idea. She sat up suddenly, took off her glasses and looked at me. The sudden intensity of her gaze on me froze me in place, my mind went blank, I was too close to escape it. That's probably exactly what she wanted. She leaned in close, and I could smell her... peaches? Had she been eating peaches? Her hand suddenly grabbed my thigh, a little too high to escape my attention, and I felt the blood rush south. My air escaped me quickly, letting out a tiny, breathless groan. She looked down to her hand, then right next to it at my growing erection, and smiled mischievously.
Fuck, she noticed.
"So what he's saying is that plants aren't conscious. They're not in the same realm as animals. But that's bullshit. Plants react to sunlight, there are even some that have defenses that are released only when they are attacked. He even says that himself right here on page 86! He's contradicting himself."
"Plants?" I said.
"Yes, plants. Aristotle? You know, the book?" She waved the book around with her right hand, her left still firmly squeezing my thigh. The wiggle in her body as she waved her arm caused her hand to move up slightly. I felt my cock press against my thigh, mere centimeters away from her fingers. At the same time I was terrified she would touch it accidentally, and I'd be so embarrassed, and also really wanted that to happen. At the last wiggle, her thumb bumped up against my erection, sliding across the tip slightly. The touch sent jolts of pleasure through my body, and I tried to keep from seizing in pleasure. I didn't want her hand to move, it was perfectly placed so that every time either she or I moved, her thumb brushed up against my cock again. I was so caught up in coming up with excuses to move slightly, feeling only her thumb pressing in to me, that I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath. My breath escaped and I breathed in raggedly, begrudgingly returning to the present moment.
She put the book down, turned to face me, and grabbed my face in her right hand. She whispered, "If you weren't so busy staring at my ass you could get this work done." Her tongue briefly came out of her mouth, touched just the tip of my lips as she held my face still. She pulled back slightly, finished licking her lips as I watched, transfixed and trying (albeit unsuccessfully) not to make a sound. She watched my reaction, then
winked
at me!
Holy fuck!
I wanted to cum right then, but I was able to stop myself, with what I think was not a whole lot of noticeable reaction. When I looked up, Jason was still reading, Robbie was laying upside down on the bean bag, but Broughton... was he smirking?