Fucking In A Classroom [FM]

Matt and I had been fucking each other for a while. Starting as FWBs, the arrangement had evolved, or devolved, depending on how you look at it, into pseudo-exclusivity. He was courteous, attentive, had a wonderful cock, not too big, thick enough to make me work at it, and, at least initially, receptive to new ideas.

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I had never meant to make him my go to. I was a Sophomore in college, and had no plans to settle down with anyone, in any way. I would never call him my boyfriend, as our interactions started and ended with sex, there was never any dating, and I think the only time he technically bought me dinner was when he let me have a slice of pizza that he and his roommate had pitched in and bought together, but hadn’t been able to finish. Other fuckbuddies had come and go, though, finding themselves either in relationships or otherwise unwilling or unable to keep up with a woman with such a voracious sexual appetite. Matt always hung around, though, and so, for a time, I stopped hunting and started settling.

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After about six months, though, things became routine. One of us would call the other up, we’d meet at one of our rooms (whoever’s roommates either weren’t there or didn’t care), we’d do the deed and go our separate ways. It was good, but less and less satisfying. There was never any talk of exclusivity or commitment, never any expectation of meeting up once a week or anything, but when a week and a half passed without me contacting him, Matt apparently got worried enough to actually have lunch with me.

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The conversation was brief, he just wanted to know if he had done anything wrong. I told him that no, he was a lot of fun, but I longed for a little spontaneity, and a few new tricks, which is why I had been on the lookout for new talent, so to speak. He took the news well, and after a bit of polite chit chat (nice weather, how are your classes, etc.), he excused himself, and I finished my meal.

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–

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Two weeks later, I was wrapping up some mind numbing class that I’ve since completely forgotten about. Matt and I hadn’t really talked since, though I had been tempted to call him a time or two. It was a weekday afternoon, so I was dressed fairly conservatively, not particularly looking to attract much attention. Just a sweater and a dark midi skirt (which I still owned until recently). I was always a bit slow in leaving class, preferring to wait until the general rush died down so I could go at my own pace. With no classes in this particular room immediately afterward, this allowed me extra time. I was aware of my fellow students filing out, all in a rush to funnel through the single door out, then I was aware of the professor, lingering for extra questions, heading out a few minutes later as I was still putting my books away.

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Then, I heard the lock click.

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I looked up, snapped out of my typically aloof mindset. There was Matt, his hand still on the knob of the closed door, testing to make sure that it was, indeed, locked. Satisfied, he looked back at me. I had seen the look before. There was no doubt in my mind what he was doing there, no reason to play dumb. He crossed to me, making his way around the long tables, arranged in a rectangle. The primal look in his eyes set me off. He reached out to pull me in for a kiss. I kissed him first.

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He used his momentum against me, sweeping me up and pinning me against the wall, our lips never parting. A spark of pain from the force of the impact was washed out by the pleasure and anticipation I was feeling. I didn’t care that the door to the classroom was windowed, that anyone could see inside at any time. I barely gave the fact a second thought. My attention was focused entirely on the hard cock pressing through his pants against my stomach. He kept one hand against the wall, blocking my route to the door, like I’d ever dream of escaping, and the other busied itself pulling up my skirt. When it finally managed to pull up the not inconsiderable length, he grabbed a handful of my ass through my cotton panties. Somewhere in my mind, I was aware of the fact that he’d never seen me casually, that every time we’d been together, I’d been wearing something tantalizing, something more provocative than the simple cotton that I was sporting that day, but he didn’t seem to care, and so I quickly put that thought away and focused at the matter at hand. My fingers made short work of his belt, unbuttoning his khakis and letting them drop. His cock protruded through the fly of his boxers, every bit as tantalizing as it always was, moreso in this situation, and he hissed and paused a moment when my fingers wrapped around it. I got the distinct impression that it had been a while, maybe since our last time, since anyone other than Matt had touched himself. He was already rock hard, and I was more than ready myself.

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With all the leverage I could muster, I pushed him back, intent to gain the upper hand. He staggered backwards, looking temporarily confused, his cock wavering in the air. He bumped against the ancient, rickety long table, more or less where I had been sitting, listening to a lecture not fifteen minutes earlier. His confusion quickly dissipated when I shimmied down my panties, letting them fall to the floor before kicking them at him. He caught them with a wicked grin, and I sauntered forward, kneeled down and taking his dick in my mouth.

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Some men find it hard to believe, but I really do enjoy sucking dick. It’s not an inherently pleasurable thing, having a dick in my mouth doesn’t feel good, but it’s the ultimate control. Feeling his cock jump in my mouth as I took his full length in one smooth motion without a hint of difficulty. It wasn’t the most sensual blowjob I’d ever given, it wasn’t slow and intense build that I usually like to give to my partners. This was an urgent, who-knows-how-long-we-have, hurry-up-and-fuck-me kind of blowjob. I wasn’t trying to get him off, I was just trying to get him ready, and it did not take long. In less than a minute, he was primed and ready. I stood up and glanced around the room for a suitable place to fuck, but classrooms were, oddly enough, not built for such activities. Matt seemed to have thought ahead, though, and grabbed my elbow, leading us to switch places, with me standing more or less right where he had just been when I’d been blowing him. He turned me around, so I was facing the table (and, more or less, the door, which I was suddenly very aware of), and bent me over it. With no pretence, he hitched my skirt up around my waist and ran his fingers over my shaved pussy, setting off sparks of pleasure. I had to bite my lip to keep from making much noise. Usually, Matt was a courteous, patient partner, just as intent on me as he was on himself. I guess he’d taken my notes on spontaneity, though, as he seemed to be very eager to get on with it. Maybe he was also aware of the door to the main hallway of the building, with a big window in the middle. It’s not like we could play off what we were doing as something more innocent. He was in his boxers with his cock sticking out, and I was bent over a table with my bare ass in the air. We weren’t exactly reviewing notes.

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So, quite unlike his usual, patient self, he lined himself up and pushed forward hard. I clasped my hand over my mouth to keep myself quiet as he roughly fucked me over the classroom table, which popped and squeaked with every thrust, threatening to give way under our weight. It held in, though. It even allowed for a little extra movement as it wobbled with each thrust. Matt kept his hands on my hips, pulling me back with extra force each time with a rough slapping noise that echoed around the empty classroom. I grabbed the opposite side of the table for some kind of support, keeping myself from sliding too much, but it didn’t help much against Matt’s merciless ramming. Occasionally, as he was pulling out, I would have a moment of clarity, reveling in the naughtiness of us doing what we were doing in a classroom, marveling at the fact that no one had seen us yet. Then he would push forward again, and I would be lost in another wave of pleasure that would obliterate all semblence of rational thought from my brain.

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I don’t know how long he lasted, it’s hard to keep time when you’re getting fucked, but it seemed like forever. All told, it had to have been less than fifteen minutes from start to his labored breathing warning of his imminent eruption. Leaning over me, he grabbed the opposite end of the table with both hands, using the extra leverage to hammer into me extra hard for the last couple thrusts, causing the table to groan, snap, and shutter, but ultimately hold, under the force, before he groaned out his orgasm, flooding me with the warm, spreading feeling of a surprisingly large load. We sat there like that for a moment, taking in what we had just done, before the table gave slightly under us. We scrambled to our feet, him slipping out of me as we went. After adjusting my skirt, I bent over to investigate the table. At some point in our fucking, one of the stabilizing bars had given way, leading to the extra sway that had made our session all the more fun. It was fairly clear that the ancient table had seen its last days, though, and that it was likely off to the junk yard by the end of the day. Still, what a way to go…

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I turned to Matt just in time to see him stuffing my panties in his pocket. I held out my hand for them, but he refused, walking to the door, giving me a smack on the ass on his way past. I was left to walk out onto campus with no panties, wearing a skirt, and, since our session had eaten up a solid chunk of the hour after my class, no time to go back to my room to get a fresh pair. Still, I had time to clean up a bit, and after such a naughty time, I couldn’t bring myself to be upset at Matt. He never really mentioned it again, part of what made it such a memorable experience, but I found myself drifting back to that time after class every time I sat in that room at a brand new replacement table.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/b0pdhy/fucking_in_a_classroom_fm