Author's Note: This story features a cameo from a character from my first published erotic story, Ben's Little Aisling.
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Hailey sighed as she shouldered her backpack and walked down the hall, passing between college students equally tired. It was a Monday, the first class of the day.
"Introduction to Human Sexuality." The butt of every registration joke, it certainly was. It was also a viable Humanities general education credit, and Hailey wanted to take something a little more interesting than the rest of the vanilla gen-eds this otherwise-prestigious state college had to offer.
Sadly, Professor Winders seemed to suck the life out of even so provocative a subject. And for the next fifty minutes, Hailey have to suffer through her professor's awkward small talk, her constant coughing and her uniquely uninspired skill with PowerPoint.
The door was open already, and Hailey walked through, noting she was the last to arrive. At least the class size was small. Seven other people, six of them girls. It seems even putting "sex" in the name of the class couldn't get college students to get up at seven-thirty in the morning.
"Hey, Hailey," yawned Sarah, as she took her seat next to her classmate. She was her almost-friend, conveniently available whenever they did partner assignments, though their friendship didn't extend outside class time.
"Yo," said Hailey, as she pulled her notebook from her backpack. "What's the weather like today?"
"Cloudy with a chance of Brad," Sarah said, smirking.
"Didn't you break up with-"
"Different Brad," she said, clicking her pen to punctuate. "This one's on the football team."
"Oh boy," Hailey said. "I've always wanted to fuck someone who loses every game they play."
"Well, fuck you too," Sarah shot back conversationally. "Though, I don't know. He seems . . . clingy. Like he wants to-"
"Could you both shut up?" Jess said from the front row. "Some of us are here to learn!"
"Stick up your ass, much? You see the clock? Seven thirty-two. Ergo, class hasn't started yet. Ergo, I can say whatever I damn well please, fuck you very much."
Hailey laughed at that. Jess flipped them both off silently, then turned back to face the front.
Hailey herself turned back to her conversation. "I'd lose him once he starts wanting to be exclusive. No point taking it further."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking."
"Good morning, class!" Professor Winders strolled in through the door, her binders clutched against her chest. "Sorry I'm almost late, I had," cough cough, "some issues with my parking pass. Though I," cough, "hope you all did the reading for today?"
The class murmured general assent as she set her books down at the front desk, picking up her flash drive and inserting it into the computer. Then, she hit a button near the monitor and the projector fired up, coating the whiteboard in blue light before resolving into a picture of her desktop.
"Good, good. So, you know," cough, cough, clearing throat, "that we'll be talking about the various gender roles found in Chinese and other far eastern societies historically, and how they relate," cough cough-
. . . aaaand Hailey was safely zoned out. She leaned back in her seat, idly playing with the spiral wire of her notebook, not bothering to take out her pencil.
She looked over to the end of her row, seeing the only male student similarly distracted. Martin leaned over his desk, his pencil tracing wide arcs across a sheet of notebook paper. Hailey craned her neck, trying to get a better look at what he was drawing, heedless of who else was watching.
". . . in African families, Hailey?"
Hailey straightened immediately, facing the front as her professor waited for her response.
"Um," she said, mind spinning. She took a shot in the dark. "Well, wouldn't it be the mother?" She hoped her answer made sense, or at least got her in the ballpark of
I was listening, honest!
Professor Winders looked thoughtful, then nodded. "Close. Mothers are principally responsible, but they work along with their daughters to contribute to the general," cough cough -
Hailey sighed in relief, her eyes darting back to Martin, who seemed to be finishing up whatever he was drawing. He now folded the sheet in half, then tapped the Haitian girl sitting in front of him -- Amy something-or-other -- on the shoulder.
She looked back sharply, meeting Martin's eyes and only taking his note after a long pause. She turned around, placing it beside her own notes, then unfolded it gradually.
And Hailey couldn't see what was written there. The angle was all wrong. She was halfway across the room, but she at least hoped she could make out a word or two.
Sexy
, perhaps, or
tonight
would serve as enough fuel for the usual gossip.
Amy straightened in her seat, then began to squirm as she folded the note shut sharply. She cast a dirty look back at Martin, but couldn't seem to hold his gaze very long. Oddly, her eyes unfocused, as she turned toward the front, losing much of her posture while doing so.
And, to add conundrum to mystery, she passed the note along to her neighbor, Cynthia.
The girl pushed her glasses up her nose, then tossed a strand of her impossibly long brown hair to the side of her face as she looked down at the note. There was a question in her gaze as she read whatever was written there, and she looked back up at Amy. Then, she squirmed in her seat like her neighbor had. No, that was a bona fide shudder, that.
Hailey had to see what was written on that note.
Cynthia slid the note to Tayler, the tiny Asian-American who easily rose to the top of every class she enrolled in. She read the note, an actual squeak escaping her lips, and then she passed it to Jess, the freshman with bobbed, blue hair.
And Jess passed it back to Sarah, who had no time for Hailey's curiosity as she held the note up to her face. Hailey groaned as Sarah's eyes dilated, her need to see what the hell Martin had written on that paper overcoming her. She set the note down, and it slowly passed-
"And what," cough cough, "do we have here?"
Professor Winders was standing in front of Sarah's seat, her eyes trained on the note she had placed on its surface. Sarah looked up into her professor's eyes, an oddly satisfied look on her face. Her crossed legs were squirming beneath the seat as she proffered the note wordlessly to her professor.
Winders took the note, unfolding it as her eyes widened. "Why I never -" cough cough, and she was leaning against the blackboard now. "In all my years of school," cough, "I can't believe," cough, clears her throat, "I . . . mmmm."
Her eyes closed as she began to slowly dry hump the air before her, the sight frankly shocking to Hailey. Then, she opened her eyes, half lidded, and tossed the note in front of Hailey.
Hailey put her hand over it, looking over at the rest of the class, who had decided apparently to collectively take a nap. Each one of them was experiencing their own vivid, probably sexually charged, dream. Sarah, next to her, was whispering something Hailey couldn't quite catch.
This note did this. Somehow.
She hesitated. Should she open it? Should she read it?
"Oh, please, give it to me, give it to me," Sarah's whispers were louder. Was her friend dreaming of her new boytoy?
Curiosity won out, and Hailey flipped the note open, revealing a truly exquisite set of spirals set in dark pencil, winding around four words penned in red at the center of the page:
"Think with your pussy."
Think with your pussy. Was that what they were doing? Hailey looked around, noting each girl was stimulating their pussies in their own way, surreptitiously or openly. Sarah was clenching her thighs, while Amy had one of her thick fantasy books pressed between her chocolate legs, dust jacket discarded on the floor.
Tayler was openly rubbing her pussy through her skirt, and Jess had dispensed of her own pants entirely, getting at her snatch directly underneath her cute pink panties.
Then, Hailey felt her pussy . . . awaken. She had no other words for it, and then, she had no other words. Her hips humped involuntarily, and practiced masturbator as she was, her right hand shot down between her thighs, pulling up her miniskirt to reveal the tiniest of wet spots against white lace.
Martin was standing, his own pants discarded on the ground as he walked between the desks. Hailey met his eyes as she began to rub her clitoris in earnest through the thin material of her panties. She had chosen a more provocative pair today, one that obscured little, and for that she was now grateful.
She pressed her left hand against her breast, kneading it as her eyes rolled back into her head. Yes, it was good to think with her pussy, at least every once in a while. It was very . . . very . . .