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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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8 O'clock Class
by OddManOut (oddman0ut@hotmail.com)
***
A college student likes to feel-up the sleepy girl
sitting next to him in class. (MF, sleepy)
***
Dr. Ivan Jokanovich is a world-class researcher in the
field of high-energy plasma physics. This year, the
University pulled in $4 million in licensing fees for
processes he developed here. Last year, he was invited
to present his research at four international
symposiums, all travel and expense fees waived.
Whenever he does present his research, the lecture hall
is inevitably packed to overflowing with physicists from
every school and company within a hundred-mile radius.
It is even rumored that he may be a candidate for a
Nobel Prize this year.
Unfortunately, his Modern Physics class is a morning
one. And not just *any* morning class, either. Physics
94 with Jokanovich meets at 8:00 sharp for one hour
every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
"I didn't want to schedule the class so that you would
have to drop it because of conflicts," he told us with a
wide grin on the first day, "So I scheduled it in the
morning, when the other classes don't meet. That way, no
conflicts."
Actually, he was only half-right. Some students who
still managed to be in athletics had practices from 7:00
until 8:30. "You should count yourselves lucky. When I
was teaching in Moscow, classes started at 6:30. For
everyone. Here in America..." He shrugged. A
heartwarming tale, to be sure, but most of us still
didn't count ourselves lucky.
I stayed in the class for three reasons. First of all, I
was interested in modern physics. Second of all, I
needed to take an intermediate physics course to satisfy
my science requirements, and Physics 94 had the least
homework. Most importantly, Julie Mason was taking the
class, and I wanted to have some excuse to look at her
at least three times a week.
One month later (and a week after the drop date), Julie
let me know in no uncertain terms that she preferred me
as an acquaintance, I had no clue what "time dilation"
meant, and it was announced that the science
requirements were being changed at my school so that
Physics 94 would be unnecessary. Just my luck.
I was about to stop going to class altogether, except
that Julie wasn't the only pretty girl in the class.
There was another girl whose name I didn't know, who
typically sat one or two rows in front of me at every
lecture. She would typically come to class, get a copy
of the lecture notes, spend the first fifteen minutes
taking notes and the rest of the class time asleep in
her chair. I never saw her outside the TA's office, so I
assumed that the arrangement must have been working for
her.
When I wasn't fighting off sleep myself, I could watch
this girl sleep at my leisure. Her head would be tilted
to one side, and her body would be slouched down, as
completely relaxed as she could be in a lecture hall
chair. When her head was tilted towards me, I would try
as nonchalantly as I could to see if I could look down
her T-shirt to her medium-sized breasts.
When she tilted away, I would study the cords of her
long, slender neck, and the profile of her cheekbone
against her face. She typically wore shorts or a skirt,
which allowed me to appraise her legs as well. They were
very pale and smooth, and were marked by freckles just
beneath the part that her shorts covered. I often
wondered if those freckles continued all the way up her
legs, or if they even spotted her mound.
With Julie now out of the way, I resolved to get to know
this girl a little better. I decided to hang around
outside class one day until I saw her go inside. I
followed, and took a seat next to hers before class
started. She smiled at me, but was rather curt when I
asked her how she was doing, and I got the impression
that she wasn't comfortable with me sitting so close to
her. Nevertheless, after class started, she was only
able to take notes for half an hour before drifting off
to sleep again.
I gave her fifteen minutes to get into a deep slumber,
then I dropped my pencil on the floor. As I reached down
to get it, I "accidentally" brushed my arm against her
calf and checked to see what her reaction was. When she
didn't move, I moved my hand back and placed it on her
lower leg. She stirred a little, but didn't open her
eyes. I wanted to do more, but I had already been
"looking for my pencil" for about ten seconds, and I
didn't want to attract attention.
I sat back up in my seat, and continued to take notes,
glancing backwards to see if anyone was staring at me in
shock. I was the one who was shocked. Over half the
class was slumped in their chairs, dead to the world,
while the remaining students were doing their best to
follow along with the professor. I noticed one nice-
looking blonde who was asleep in her seat, and made a
mental note to sit near her sometime in the future.
Satisfied that no one was watching what I was doing, I
gently eased my hand over to my sleeping paramour's
thigh and rested it there gently. She didn't seem to
notice, so I stroked her bare leg softly with my hand,
watching her face very closely to make sure she didn't
wake up.
Her skin was warm, and a little stubbly—she must not
have had time to shave before coming to class this
morning. The inside of her thigh was warmer, but I was
unable to explore this further, as her legs were closed,
and I didn't want to risk waking the girl up by wedging
my hand into her crotch.
I continued to stroke her thigh for the next ten
minutes, then removed my hand as the professor concluded
his lecture. The sound of people getting up and leaving
roused my redhead from her slumber, and she stretched
her arms out, giving me a very nice view of her breasts
being lifted upwards and outwards.
"Did I miss anything while I was asleep?" she asked me.
Although tempted to see her reaction to an honest
answer, I merely told her that nothing had been said
that wasn't in the course reader (I hoped-- I hadn't
been paying attention either). That seemed to satisfy
her, so she thanked me, turned and left. I would have
gotten up and followed her, except that I was feeling
conscious of the huge erection I had. I raced home on my
bike and beat off quickly, knowing I would need to
relieve the pressure right then rather than carry it
through the day.
**
Two days later, I sat next to my redhead once more, and
learned that her name was Shirley before she fell asleep
once again, twenty minutes into the class. I looked
around again to make sure that no one was watching us,
and this time I immediately eased my hand onto her
thigh. Shirley was fast asleep, and didn't wake up to
stop me when I stroked her leg softly.
I would have liked to feel her breasts, but that would
have meant putting my hand out in the open where
everyone could see. Instead I decided to something
really daring. After ten minutes of subtly stroking her
thigh, I eased my hand into Shirley's lap and, paying
close attention to her closed eyelids, eased open the
button and zipper on her shorts. It was slow work, and I
needed to pause occasionally to keep up the appearance
of taking notes, but after a few minutes, I had managed
to open her shorts enough to slip my hand inside and
stroke her soft panties.
As I was building up the nerve to slip my hand beneath
her underwear, Shirley began to toss slightly. I froze,
terrified with my hand still against her crotch, as I
watched her yawn, roll a little bit to her side, then
settle back in to sleep. Spooked, I slipped my hand
away, closed her shorts, and tried to take notes for the
rest of class.
My close call kept me from repeating my excursions for a
while, but I continued to sit near Shirley, waiting to
get up the courage once again. I also occasionally sat
next to Jean, the blonde sleeper I had noticed earlier.
Jean would be trickier to grope, as she usually sat next
to friends who stayed attentive in class. I wouldn't be
able to do anything with them around.
I may have been spooked by Shirley's tossing, but I
decided to return to her thighs the day I first saw her
wear a skirt to class. As soon as Shirley fell asleep
that day, my pencil fell to the floor, and as I bent to
retrieve it, I spread her legs slightly. Before I
returned to my seat, I took a good look right up her
skirt at her cream colored panties, veiled by her
nylons.
For most of the class, Shirley slept with her skirt
bunched up around her thighs, and one of my hands busy
on her legs. I was able to splay her legs apart a little
further, and used the opportunity to run my hand slowly
over her clothed mound, taking care not to poke or
stimulate Shirley into wakefulness. I smoothed down her
skirt as class ended, and watched her as she woke up.
Shirley was slightly flushed as she got up to leave, and
I wondered what she might have been dreaming about while
I played with her thighs.
**
The next time Shirley came to class, I noticed that she
was wearing a skirt again, and that this skirt was about
two inches shorter than the last one, with no nylons. As
soon as I was sure she was asleep, I was surreptitiously
lifting it up her thighs. This skirt was slit up the
side, and I was able to slide my hand up to her pussy
easily in the next minute.
I held my hand in its position for a few minutes,
feeling her heat while I allowed her to become
accustomed to the feel of my hand on her pussy, then I
crooked a finger and slowly slid it beneath her panties.
Her slit was warm and soft, but not wet. I decided to
see if I could change that situation, so I started to
wiggle my finger very slowly.
For a minute or two, I got no reaction from Shirley for
my ministrations. I was about to stop, as my hand was
beginning to ache from its unusual position, when
Shirley sighed slightly in her sleep, and spread her
legs a little wider. This encouraged me to continue for
a little bit longer, and I was rewarded when I finally
felt her juices begin to flow.
I coated my finger with her fluids, and eased it
slightly up into her folds. I was trying not to call
outside attention to myself by staring directly at the
middle of my textbook and scribbling disjointed notes.
Meanwhile, my left hand, concealed behind the desk, was
slipping its way into the pretty girl next to me. I was
almost able to get my middle finger in to the second
knuckle before I was forced to stop.
Shirley hummed quietly in her sleep, and her muscles
contracted about my finger. I guessed that I was giving
her some very pleasant dreams. I began to slide my
finger in and out of her slowly, mimicking what I
guessed Shirley's dream lover might be doing to her. Her
legs parted a little more when I did this, and I found
that I could now get better penetration with my finger.
The professor droned on, oblivious to what we were doing
below the desk.
Shirley's juices began to flow a little faster, so I
compensated by increasing the pressure of my stroking. I
wanted to move faster as well, but the rapid jerking of
my arm might have called unwanted attention to us. My
finger pushed firmly against the walls of her vulva as I
slowly pressed it in and out.
I felt Shirley squeeze herself again, a little harder
than the last time, and I decided it was time to remove
my finger. It was fun to masturbate Shirley as she
slept, but I was sure that letting her to come to orgasm
would both wake her up and bring the attention of
others. I slid my finger from her slit and began to
smooth down her panties.
Shirley's hips moved forward towards my hand, trying to
bring back the pleasure I was giving her. Fighting off
the urge to return my hand, I smoothed her skirt back
down her legs quietly, then took my hand away. I stuck
my finger in my mouth and cleaned it off quickly to
remove the Shirley's scent from my hand. My finger
tasted slightly musky and heady, a flavor very much like
saffron.
Next to me, Shirley rolled from side to side quietly,
obviously disturbed by the sudden disappearance of her
dream lover. I placed my hand back on her thigh gently
to see if it would quiet her. The response I got was not
what I expected.
Still sleeping, Shirley crossed her left leg over her
right, trapping my hand between her thighs. When I
gently tried to remove my hand, she stirred slightly,
and started to wake up. I immediately relaxed my arm and
stroked her thigh with my thumb, and she relaxed again,
sinking into the chair.
I looked at the clock and choked back my panic. There
was only five minutes left in class. If Shirley woke up
and found my hand sandwiched between her legs, I had no
doubt that her reaction would be anything less than
severe, regardless of what she had been dreaming about.
If I tried to pull my hand away now, the sensation would
wake her up, and I would be found out. If I tried to
reach over and lift her leg with my free hand, the rest
of the class would see what I was doing.
Shirley continued to sleep as I frantically thought of
how I might get my hand out from her legs. Suddenly, I
got an idea. I dropped my pencil so that it would roll
past Shirley's legs. I got out of my chair and kneeled
down to retrieve it, trying my best to hide the fact
that my hand was trapped. When I was completely beneath
the desk, I slid my free hand back up Shirley's skirt
and lightly ran my fingertips over her mound again.
Feeling this new stimulation, Shirley relaxed her legs
slightly, and I slipped my hand away.
With just a few minutes left in the class, I eased my
way back up in the chair and returned to a pretense of
taking notes. Shirley was rubbing her legs together in
her sleep, trying to bring back my hand. As the class
ended, she woke up, and gave me an embarrassed look as
she put away her class notes. I didn't know why she was
embarrassed until I saw her get up to leave. On the back
of her skirt was a small wet mark from her juices that
had flown during her sleep. As we left the classroom, I
noticed that she headed straight for the women's room.
**
After that day, Shirley never wore a skirt to class
again, but I would always sit next to her and idly
stroke her legs as she slept. We didn't make much small
talk, and I never asked her out. At the end of the
semester, just after taking the final, I found a piece
of candy hidden in my bag with a note wrapped around it.
"Thanks for keeping my legs relaxed in class."
I guess Shirley had known more than I thought.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 69