Yes, finish up first period.

You write for the remaining half hour but this time it's just harmless notes on Beowulf and nothing more, nothing less. When the bell rings, first period is finally over.

Class out, you pack your things and begin to head for the door, when you suddenly feel someone's ass pushing your hand against your leg. You swivel your head. Wanda Gao and her impressive tush passes you without a word, and before you could say anything to the Asian cutie, you're accosted by the undeniable feeling of two sweater-clad breasts scraping your opposite side. You turn to see Heather Jenkins herself pass you by, deliberately crushing her boobs against your shoulder as she squeezes between you and Douglas, who's busy talking with Avery Padding. Her eyes don't even glance your way, instead nonchalantly cast on the crowded path in front of her. The feeling of the hottest girl in class thrusting her nipples on you causes your throat to instantly go dry. In any given day this would be a lame virginal wet dream; not today, even if it's arguably still half of that.

She however doesn't pay you an ounce of attention as she slips into freedom and simply readjusts her bra and goes on her way, out into the hall.

You hear a pair of nerdy looking boys snickering beside you.

"Did you get a feel of those coconuts dude?"

"You see how I tried to lean back a bit and scratch my ear? This close, man. This close!"

"Aww-haha damn. Next time man next time!"

You just shake your head. If only they knew the feeling.

As you walk off, your friend Jenny walks by you. Upon noticing you, she stops to hover by your side. "Hey Michael." Then when you get close enough, she smiles, grabs your hand and shoves it into her left nipple. You are well aware of the way in which she's pushing your fingers into her pillowy breast. You gulp but keep your cool. While pushing your hand up against her boob casually she asks, "How was that for a roll call, huh?"

"Oh," you realize she means the underwear thing, and nod. "Yeah, I know, right? You know what they say, privacy is dead, ha-ha."

She laughs then after another second lets your arm go, though you're tempted to leave it there. "Alright Michael, I gotta go up. See you in history!" Your old friend waves and you wave back, ogling her tight yoga pants which were practically taped onto her firm behind and pair of legs along the way. Those could use an inspection of sorts you think. Who knows.

You progress down the hall, and shiver as each time you walk towards a pair of cute, cleavage-displaying girls, or a hot teacher, or a duet of attractive skater chicks, you know what to expect and they placidly fulfill it, each time. Without flinching or fail the girls casually pivot to brush their buttocks against you or quickly slide their breasts against your shoulder, wiggling or giving an energetic hump if they're in the middle of a joke or dragging their breasts all across your back before continuing down the opposite way without a word. Sometimes it's just a rapid brush, quick enough to miss, but not quite, not yet. Right now you're gladly taking into tactile account all of the flesh passing you by, and against you, and all the hot girls it belongs to, yes you are. With a lame grin on your face you leisurely make for your next class.