To start the story at the climax would be unfair. To try to convey the verbal foreplay involved in their fond daily interactions would be in vain. I'll start in history class. Final year of high school where two inexperienced eighteen year olds risk it all for a touch.
Eerie tales of war playing in the background set a soundscape of loud thuds and bangs that mimic the inner voice of the young man. Strategically, he has placed himself next to the hot blonde in his friend group. The one that kept him up until all hours the night before, teasing him with sexual remarks sent digitally, just out of reach. His eyes were forced away from her face, seemingly magnetically, out of sheer embarrassment and fear. The only things he can see peripherally are her soft, tanned thighs that peek from the bottom of the hem of her rolled up school skirt, as well as the top wire from what must be her favourite bra. Just this was enough to send a pulse through his cock, begging the gods for x-ray vision, just for the chance to examine her whole figure.
There was a moment, although indescribable, that was definite and defining. A moment that guided the boys hand, just shy of her supple left thigh. His courage built, if only by a modicum, to bring his shaking fingertip to her knee. It was a gauge, a means to check her willingness to accept his touch. She sat still, eyes fixed on the wall in front of her, totally lost in thought. He swirled his fingers around her knee until she twitched, startling him to take his fingers off, but only briefly. He knew how she thought of him, her words echoing in his head, "I wish we lived closer so I could sneak out to fuck you."
Until today, those words were just words, late night displays of teenage voracity and digital courage. He decides to press forward, moving his digits to the edge of her skirt. These thighs he caressed were the thighs dreams are made of... soft, smooth and twitching with excitement. His fingers traced until he felt the time right to lay his palm flat against her surface. The time it has taken to get to this point has been frustratingly long for all involved. He wanted to move as slowly as possible to avoid suspicion from the classmates and the teacher regularly doing laps of the room. The only movements you would see him make would be the occasional readjustment of the member in his pants trying desperately to escape.