Not without a reminder

Sarah nods slowly, giving a little gulp. "Oh, uh, alright...sure. Well, the poem is about--" Mrs. Fletcher tsks sharply, cutting her off. "Sarah, you know you're not allowed to speak unless your fingering yourself. Now I expect to see your hand down your pants before you answer." You can barely believe your ears as your hear your English teacher enforcing your new rule. Sarah blushes furiously, and some of the class snickers behind her.

"Y-yes, m'am," she says nervously. The girl reaches under her desk, unfastening the button on her jeans. There's the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered, and her right hand disappears into the waistband of her panties. Every eye in the classroom watches as she begins to move her fingers, working her clit right there at her desk. Her face is burning, legs spread wide open. "Th-the poem is about...," she starts to say, letting out a little gasp as she slides a finger into her slit. "About a coming of age story," she continues, a lewd squelching noise filling the room. She squirms in her seat, biting her lower lip to hold back a moan, not wanting to embarrass herself any further in front of the class. "A boy is **** to protect his village from a monster. "Very good," says Mrs. Fletcher nonchalantly, ignoring the filthy display. "And what's notable about the poem's use of language?"