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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen Becker o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Eight O'Clock Class (MF, sleep)
OddManOut Anywhere (oddman0ut@hotmail.com)
**
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 some time
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. -S." I guess Shirley had known more than I thought.
THE END