Sex in School

You look up at the clock, watching the agonizingly slow movement of time...

Another 40 minutes until lunch. Another six months until you're out of here, finished school and out into the big wide world. No more boring lectures, no more school uniform and most of all no more condescending lectures from damn teachers! In the back of your mind Mr. Lindbrook, the geography teacher, mumbles some drivel about a river in a country that you have no interest in, your more intent on carving swear words in the top of the worn laminated table, than his Amazon rainforest crap. Finishing the last leg on the letter 'K' you had been chiseling, you blow away the dust with the small satisfaction that someone else will be sitting here next year inspired to write his own epitaph on the table of the Geography room.

Finished with your carving and in no mood for the deforestation tirade spouted by Mr. Lindbrook, your mind starts to wander (as it always does) and you find yourself glancing at the girls in you class. Your eyes lingering here and there, taking in the girls you have grown up with. As always the same four girls catch your eyes.

Two rows in front your eyes catch Cathlin, up the front, as always, scribbling in her notebook as if her life depended on it. Her shoulder-length black hair is swept behind her left ear and her grey-blue eyes intent on the page before her. The smartest girl in the class, straight-A's and her future planned out 'til she turns thirty or so. You wonder to yourself why none of the guys have made a move on her. I mean she's pretty, but a little standoffish. She's fairly short, you'd guess 5'2" maybe 5'3" with a nice figure (you've caught yourself checking her out in the gym now and then) with a decent pair of tits too when she takes her school sweater off. You come to the conclusion that it's because most of the other girls make fun of her and to go there would make that guy a target for their ribbing too.

Letting out a small sigh you glance to your left, further along the row is Kim. She runs a hand through her short blonde hair and stifles a yawn with her hand. Tall and athletic, she seems as bored as you are in this class. You can't remember the last time you saw her out of her sports uniform but you can't complain, the tight blue sweatpants leave little to your imagination. You gather she must have been running this morning and you catch yourself trying to work the outline of her small breasts through her T-shirt.

A soft rapping to your right draws your attention to Emma. Her rings are lightly brushing against the table in time with some song she is singing in her head, her black braids swinging slightly as she moves her head to the music. She is pretty, in an alternative sort of way; dark make-up lines her eyes and accentuates their green colour. Her music is pretty out there and you've caught bits of her conversations about Wicca crap, it's all pretty irrelevant as you glance at the top of her plaid school dress. Of all the girls in the class, it's Emma's breasts that draw your attention. It's not that they are overly large or anything they just seem more 'noticeable'.

A comment and a soft laugh make you glance over your shoulder at Allison, blonde and perfect and the most popular girl of your year level, the fantasy of every guy you know. You can understand why, she is stunning and unfortunately she knows it. Modeling herself after Britney Spears, Annastacia or the myriad of other mass-produced blonde teen singers out there at the moment and as superficial with their music as she seems to be. She shoots you a look and turn back around, fighting the urge to call her a bitch as her friends begin to giggle.

You attempt to listen the Mr. Lindbrook for a few minutes before it once again turns into that monotonous buzzing and you begin to think about carving some nasty remark about Allison in the table when you notice Mr. Lindbrook has stopped talking. Looking up you can see he is talking to another teacher Mrs. Coates, the old librarian. After a few moments of hushed talking and Lindbrook nodding, he turns to the class.

"Alright kids I have an appointment with the Principal about one of the girls in my homeroom so I need to step out for a while. While I'm gone I want you to watch this video I was planning to show next period." He looks across the class.

"You are in your last year of school and considered adults so I expect you to behave like adults" he says, sternly. "Move the tables and chairs around so you can all see the TV- and keep the noise down Mrs. Coates is teaching literature next door and I don't want to hear she came in here to quiet you all down."

After supervising the moving tables and chairs, Mr. Lindbrook leaves after one final admonishing look. The lights click off and the room is lit only by the flickering images or the Amazon. You stretch your legs content in the fact that you managed to snag a seat at the back of the room and if your lucky nobody will notice you fall asleep.

After a few minutes, your eyes begin to grow heavy when a slight bump from the person next to you catches your attention. You look across in the dim light...