Caught After Class by Programmer Cat..,

Catherine tossed her schoolbag onto her desk and rolled her shoulders. Resenting the load the public school imposed upon her even in senior year, she decided that the homework her teachers deemed ‘necessary’ could rot.

She smiled, knowing what her friend would think of such rebellious thoughts. “Where was he today,” she asked herself as she stood before her vanity mirror and lifted the hem of her clinging black jumper over her head. Tossing the jumper onto the bed, she reached behind her and unclasped the white cotton bra mandated by the school as part of the uniform.

“Could he have been in detention again,” Catherine thought as she cupped her soft white breasts and gently massaged them. Stepping out of her knee-length pleated skirt, she sat at the vanity and began to peel away the white pantyhose that the school also mandated.

Tossing the hateful undergarment onto the floor, Catherine stretched out on her bed. The autumn breeze through the window fluttered the curtains while caressing her bare back, and Catherine felt her nipples harden. She shifted against the soft quilt, and sighed as her nipples dragged against the fabric. She felt just a hint of musk in the air.

Knowing that thinking of her friend was arousing her, she turned onto her back. As she caressed her breasts she imagined his hands upon them. She imagined him playing her as he played his violin, his stormy blue eyes burning into her own as he explored her body for the very first time. “I hope he’s still a virgin,” Catherine sighed as her lush thighs parted; whenever she read of sex or saw sex depicted in film, she would imagine that she was the woman and her friend the man.

“I’m eighteen,” she thought,” and he just turned eighteen last week. We’re both old enough, and I’m tired of waiting.” As her fingers parted the soft caramel petals of her sex she moaned and wished that Matthew would notice her desire for him. Heat shook her body as her fingertips brushed against her clitoris.

Forcing herself to stop, she breathed deeply and said to herself, “Maybe Matthew’s home now. I should go see him. Maybe he’ll want what I want tonight. Then again, it’d be nice just to watch him.”

Remembering his face, which seemed irresistibly erotic when he was bent upon a task, Catherine retrieved a pair of lace-topped black silk stockings from her drawer. Rolling them on, she imagined Matthew’s lips upon them. Since all she had were ugly cotton panties, she did without as she slipped into her skirt. Likewise, she allowed her breasts to bob freely beneath the clinging wool of her sweater rather than endure the harsh cotton of one of her bras.

Sitting before her vanity again, she spread her thighs wide. Remembering that he had come to visit not five minutes after she had finished pleasuring herself, she knew that Matthew loved the scent of her sex, though he thought it was perfume. She slipped two fingers deep into her well and drew them out again. Treating her essence like perfume, she dabbed a bit behind her ears before licking her fingers clean.

Strapping on her high-heeled ankle boots, she strode from her empty house, locking the door behind her, and and crossed the quiet street. Her heels clicked against the asphalt before digging little pits in the grass as she found her way to the back door of Matthew’s house.

Raising her voice as she closed the door behind her, she called his name. When she received no response, not even the soft drumbeat of his feet rushing down the stairs, she decided to go to his room. Turning to the ginger tabby sunning itself on the kitchen counter, she said, “Hey, Tabasco, I wonder what Matthew would think if he found me naked in his bed?” The cat purred in response, stretching out his forepaws, and Catherine smiled: “My thoughts exactly.”

She stopped outside the door to Matthew’s bedroom, which was slightly ajar. She could hear what sounded to her like the pulsing crunch of an Iced Earth album coming from a stereo turned down low. Crouching close to the door, she heard a wet and rhythmic sliding sound that reminded her of her fingers sliding in and out of her core when she pleasured herself late at night. Listening closely as her body throbbed, she heard soft panting, and then a whimper. The panting continued, followed by a low moan: “Oh, Catherine…”

“He moaned my name,” Catherine thought as she forced her legs to support her. She slowly pushed open the door and stepped into Matthew’s room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. She could smell clean sweat mixed with vanilla and another scent. Taking a step into the room, she saw her friend nude upon his narrow bed. His long hair lay in a rich golden mess upon his pillow as he panted through parted lips.

She had kissed his mouth just once, on New Year’s Eve. It was but a brief brush of lips beneath a sprig of mistletoe, but Catherine wanted to feel Matthew’s full coral lips on hers before they set out to explore her body.

And when he was done, Catherine wanted inside her the very thing he was stroking. The swollen penis in his right hand transfixed her gaze, rooting her to the spot. She had never seen a man’s penis before, and she could feel her nectar trickle down one stockinged thigh as she shivered in her need to possess both the penis before her and the man who bore an organ perfectly proportioned to the rest of his slim white body beneath snug bluejeans and linen shirts.

She slid to her knees beside his bed, her eyes still locked upon the swollen red tip of Matthew’s penis. Her hand slipped between her parted thighs and found her clitoris, and as she circled her bud she let her other hand rest upon his thigh. She kneaded his flesh, feeling the muscle built by years of cycling.

Catherine matched her pace to his as he stroked himself, and sighed when he finally arched his back. A small twinge of impending climax rocked her womb, and her mouth went dry as she watched him throw his head back and let a soft cry flee his lips as his entire body began to shudder. She licked her parched lips as she watched him come; she wanted to taste the cream that erupted from the tip of his penis with each shudder that rocked his body.

As he slowly opened his eyes, Catherine pressed a fingertip moistened with her nectar to his lips. “Relax,” she whispered, “What I saw was beautiful.”

She sighed as she watched him lick his dry lips and taste a trace of her.

As she sat on the edge of his bed, she made no effort to cross her legs. “I heard you moan my name,” Catherine said.

Blushing, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what,” Catherine smiled as she drew closer to him. “Sorry for masturbating? I do it too. Sorry for thinking of me when you pleasure yourself? I think of you when I please myself.”

She smiled as Matthew swallowed hard and gasped, “What?”

“Yes, I’ve wanted you for years. Since I was thirteen, actually,” Catherine said, her voice soft, as she pressed her lips to his and slipped a hand into his hair.

Hearing Matthew whimper against her lips further sharpened Catherine’s hunger. She pressed her kiss harder against his lips, and darted her tongue past his lips as they opened. As their tongues met, Matthew let his hands slip down to her waist.