Look for your bestie.

Much as you would rather bring yourself over the brink right then and there, you manage to pause for a moment and think. Why sail your maiden voyage solo when you know that having a co-pilot will be all the more satisfying? You spend a full second mulling this over before grinning widely. There's only one real choice as to who should get the honors. Pulling your glittery cell from your pocket, you hastily send over a quick message to one of your contacts before going back to class. Besides a meaningful glare from the teacher, nobody questions your absence, but you don't notice either way. Your mind is focused on far more interesting, sexier things.

The final bell rings, and not a moment too soon. You hastily pack your things, join the flood of students leaving the classrooms, stash your junk ("junk", you snigger to yourself) in your locker before making a beeline for the sports facilities. Just behind the boys' changing rooms is a typically secluded spot where you scheduled your emergency rendezvous, and where your contact is already waiting.

"Hey," greets the figure casually leaning against the wall. You smile at the sight of the girl sporting short blond hair, faintly dyed with long streaks of grey to match the shade of her eyes, and a pair of lips lined with dark lipstick with a hint of purple. She's wearing a modest pastel cardigan and jeans today, but the both of you know better that she is anything but.

As far as you remember, you've been best friends with Samantha since the third grade, with both of you sharing a keen interest in boys at an early age. After you learned about the birds and the bees in school, neither of you looked back, both dating and doing your first crushes before deciding that opening up your options was much more fun. While not as blatant as you, Samantha's gained a reputation of her own for the looseness and tightness of her holes.

"So what's up? From the way you mashed your 'y' key, I thought there was gonna be something big," remarks Samantha, after the two of you share your typical platonic 'besties' hug. "You do know the football team isn't practicing today, right?"

"Oh, something's big all right," you smirk. "I just thought I should get the opinion of the best blowjob queen in the whole school."

"What are you talking - about..."

You grin widely as Samantha's voice dies in her throat, her jaw dropping open as you pull your zipper down and over your swelling bulge. The brand new organ pushes past the rim of your thong like a jack-in-the-box, and you can almost swear that a puff of musty mist accompanied its appearance.

"Is that," chokes Samantha, "A str-"

"It's more than that. It's the bona fide real deal."

"What the f - ohmi - how - when - "

"Don't know! It suddenly decided to come out during the last class. Seems to be in - ooooh! - full working order," you hiss as Samantha teases a finger along the underside. It definitely feels better when someone else is doing it.

"Whoa." Bringing her head down, Samantha goes for a closer look, to the point where you feel the excited puffs of her breath on your tip. Every time she exhales, your cock throbs back in torturous tune. You almost want to grab Samantha by her hair and push her all the way down - knowing that she probably won't resist only makes the urge more unbearable.

"So... does it... you know?" asks Samantha quietly, still regarding your weapon wide-eyed. "Like a guy's?"

"Only one way to find out," you purr.