I bit my bottom lip, shifting my legs at the tingling between them. I hadn’t seen a guy like him, ever. Mr. Phillips turned to me. “Christine Rou...seau,” he said. The class was staring at me. “What?” I muttered, still in a trance. “Oh. Right.” I stood up and faced the class. “Hey guys,” I said cheerfully, waving my hand excitedly, bouncing my tits and smiling broadly. That was how I became class president three years in a row. Some of the guys grinned back at me; but I didn’t have a single. I look over at you and there is a cat-ate-the-canary smile on your pretty face that makes me melt. I dutifully stuff the underwear in my pocket, eying your shirt which is partially unbuttoned, and the unrestrained titflesh underneath. I glance around us, but we have the row to ourselves, and are a few rows away from the nearest other couple. You’re again holding my arm tightly, but it’s between your legs, your body pressed against me, unmistakably horny. Your nails are scratching at me a. More

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