Masturbate

You imagine if you had, in the middle of class, ripped off Yasmin's yoga pants and thrust immediately into her. You imagine spanking her sexual frustration out of her as you bend her over and **** her to her hands and knees, never letting up your thrusting. The way those two fat fleshy mounds would jiggle as your abs hit them, again, and again, and again.

You can't help it. You pull down your pants and masturbate to the fantasy, using spit to lube up your own hand. In a single furious minute, it is over. You are spurting into your own hand as you imagine that Yasmin is here with you, presenting her beautiful body to you in all its fit but curvy glory.

Unfortunately, then you look at the mess you've made.

"Shit, shit..." you grab toilet paper and start wiping up the streams of cum that spurted off in front of you. You flush them down the toilet. You wet paper towels to get the last of the residue, then firmly wash your own hands. When every ounce of cum is gone, you check yourself one last time and exit the bathroom. You find that class is about to end. Yasmin is sitting against the wall, partnerless. She stands up and approaches you as the bell rings, and Mister Sadovitra ends the class.

"I'm so sorry," Yasmin says.

"What do you need to apologize for?" you say. "I just...you know, I needed to step away."

"It doesn't always take two, with men," she grimaces. "But in this case, it did."

"That's such a modern aphorism," you say.

"Am I not modern?"

"I guess you are," you shrug. "Look, it's fine, really. We'll just be more careful in the future."

She nods, with a smile, and you back off to leave. But you can still see something else in her wide eyes. A sort of glint that hasn't gone away.

Hunger.