Relax, On the Fountain

You smirk and think to yourself,

I just want to enjoy the weather.

Turning, you lower yourself onto the fountain's wide granite edge. As you lock eyes with the students in front of you, you sit before noticing moisture between your thighs and beneath the lower part of your ass. You think that you just sat onto a wet segment of the fountain, probably.

"I can't believe she's naked right now," your ears hear a small black haired girl say, phone pointed at you.

Wanting to relax, you wiggle yourself into a comfortable position and bring back up your own phone. Your laziness seems to be getting quenched, as you find some comfort scrolling through Instagram while occasionally glancing up at the audience of peers surrounding you. Every few photos or so, you see a new angle of yourself appear on your feed. You squirm and pick up your breathing each time.

The sun falls on your body, warming everywhere from your head to your toes. Misty water sprays lightly on your backside. It is heavenly.

"She's loving this," you hear in the chatter around you.

I'm not an exhibitionist,

you think to yourself,

I don't care about them – them capturing my body. I just didn't want to deal with clothes, and now I'm reaping in the rewards.

"Fuck, this is hot," a boy chimes in.

You look up at the sky, and see blue jays fly between the trees in the quad. You take your left hand and move it gracefully up your thigh. Up your stomach. Across your belly button. Up further. It reaches your right breast, and you massage it, rolling your fingers through your skin as you've done many times when you've been bored in bed. Playing with your boobs was just a casual pass time for you. Normally most girls would consider getting some privacy before doing such a harmless act, but to you that seems like too much effort. You're already here, you're trying to relax.

"Oh my god," pipes up a girl in the crowd.

Looking back down, you see the faces of your crowd. You see more phones raise up as you play with your boob.

It's crazy how much effort they're putting into this. How much they're paying attention to every move I make. I couldn't be bothered if I were them.

You look at them, continuing to roll your breast. You slide your fingers across its surface. Your pointer finger traces over your areola, attempting to go over. However, it can't. It's stopped by your nipple – somehow raised tall and as stiff as a rock.

I'm cold?

Yet the sun remains bright, and the spray of mist light.

You push your finger forward, flicking your nipple out of the way. You feel a shiver ride up your toes to your ears, passing everywhere in between.

Oh yeah, definitely cold.

You continue on your phone in your right hand, looking at the occasional meme, occasional update from a friend, and the occasional post or livestream of your public exposure.

"She's such a fucking slut," ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Look at how she's squirming!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No! Look at how hard her nipples are getting!" ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What a whore,"

How do you want to continue?