Masturbating

Emily's dorm room was quiet except for the whisper of her fingers against the sheets. The moonlight painted silver stripes across her comforter, illuminating the way her hand hesitated at the waistband of her pajama shorts. Her pulse throbbed in her throat as she traced the fabric lower, lower—until her fingertips brushed the soft cotton of her panties. She'd never done this before, never let herself *want* like this, but the memory of Principal Lee's gaze flickering to her thighs in the library sent a hot twist through her stomach.

Her breath hitched as she pressed her palm against herself, feeling the damp heat through the thin material. The friction was clumsy at first—unsure strokes that made her toes curl into the mattress. But then she remembered the way his voice had gone rough when she'd stretched in front of him, the way his knuckles had whitened around his pen when her skirt rode up. Emily bit her lip to stifle a whimper as she slipped her hand beneath the waistband, her fingers finally finding slick, swollen flesh. Her hips jerked involuntarily at the contact, her back arching off the bed as she circled her clit with trembling pressure. The sensation was dizzying—like lacrosse sprints and sugar rushes combined—and when she imagined it was *his* fingers instead of hers, his calloused hands pinning her wrists above her head as he… Her breath came in shallow gasps, her thighs clamping around her own wrist as the pleasure crested abruptly, violently, leaving her shuddering and breathless in its wake.

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Steam curled around John’s shoulders as he braced one forearm against the shower tiles, his other hand working himself with slow, deliberate strokes. The water sluiced down his back, but nothing could drown out the memory of Emily’s blouse gaping open, the way her collarbones had glistened with a sheen of sweat in the library’s fluorescent light. He groaned, thumb swiping over the head of his cock as he imagined her kneeling between his legs instead, those pink lips parted around him, her golden hair spilling over his thighs. His grip tightened—*fuck*—as the fantasy shifted: Emily beneath him on his desk, her pleated skirt shoved up around her waist, her nails scraping down his back as he— The orgasm hit him like a rogue wave, his release swirling down the drain.