Hush-hush
by eboy – eboyandsuch.wordpress.com

“No way. Even he’d notice! Come on…”

“Observe that he didn’t even bat an eyelash when you said that. And you can’t tell me he couldn’t hear you – that was certainly not an ‘inside voice,’ Ben.”

“Fine, but making out under the table?” He whispers this part, just to be safe.

Good old Lucy at the table ahead of us turns around to add her two cents. “Guys, just last week I sat under the table listening to music and doing work, remember? He certainly didn’t notice the missing person in the room. And we are pretty far back…”

The debate had gone on for weeks, now, and didn’t show any signs of stopping. Not unless one of us did something drastic, that is.

“Fine. Ben, let’s settle this. I’m getting under the table; join me when you’re brave enough.”

*********

When I signed up for physics class sophomore year it was because I’m not much the science type and figured that if you’re gonna do science you may as well do the fun stuff. I mean, physics classes are all supposed to be like what we took in middle school, right? Lots of throwing stuff off buildings and smashing things together and setting off model rockets. That’s what physics is about, right? Well, apparently not with this teacher.

The physics teacher at this school, it turns out, is the most boring man alive, or at least close to it. He’s also among the most oblivious. Not only does he fail miserably to teach the syllabus (I could learn more from reading the textbook, and I’m not just saying that), he manages to fail in a complete monotone with his back to the class, saying the same few things every day and working identical example problems the whole time. We all paid attention in the first semester, but when things didn’t improve… Well, what could you expect? No one even bothers taking out their notebooks anymore, and if the rest are like me, they’ve probably lost them. We sit and talk or doodle or do homework for other classes or browse the web or eat or just generally goof off – or, for the last few weeks, debate whether it would be possible to make out under the tables without the teacher noticing.

Of course, as the only “couple” in the class, Ben and I were the focus of this conversation. Lucy and the others tried their best to keep it all in the hypothetical, but I accepted right from the start that this was really all about Ben and I. And that’s fine by me, really – god knows Ben and I have been open enough about our intimacies elsewhere. He and I have been together a few months now, almost since the beginning of the school year. It’s a first relationship for both of us, and we both just dived right into it from the start, moving pretty quickly. We were friends all freshmen year – it’s not like I’m “easy” or whatever the word is these days, but once we decided on being together, I decided to lose my virginity as soon as possible. That’s a story I’d rather not go into – some things are to intimate to share. But for most other things, I’ve always had a pretty relaxed attitude about good old “PDAs.” I prefer not to flaunt the fact that we’ve slept together, but hell, I’ve had a few people walk in on us in the stairwells during free periods when we were, well… far past second base.

All this is to say that getting down under the table in the middle of physics class planning on making out with my guy only had be nervous because of the potential ramifications of being caught. The thought that Lucy and Max and Gordon and Jill would soon all be able to see Ben and I making out by just turning around a little… Well, ok. So it did make me a tiny bit excited. I could feel a little tingling in the pit of my stomach, and probably a little dampness.

Ben, of course, takes the bait. “Fine, Abbey. You’re probably right anyway.” He’s slightly more conservative than I am. But only slightly.

It’s hard and cold under the table, but this being a science lab with high benches and whatnot, at least there’s plenty of room. I feel a little like I’m going through one of those silly earthquake drills they make all schoolchildren do around here. I haven’t done one in years.

“Lucy, Max, you two keep watch. If he turns around, let us know; if he actually looks like he’s going to notice, let us know forcefully.” God knows I don’t want my make-out session interrupted by any false alarms.

Ben is spreading out his jacket on the ground for us to lie on. His hands are shaking a little, but only a little. Mostly, he’s just got the same twinkle in his eye I’m sure he can see in mine. “Ready?” I grab his hand to stop it from shaking, then pull it around so that it rests on my lower back. Reaching out to stroke his hair, I feel him relax back onto the blanket. “Always,” he whispers. Then we kiss.

I hear a small smattering of applause from the benches in front of us – apparently they thought we wouldn’t quite go through with it. A little voice in the back of my mind curses them for clapping so loudly. Surely he’ll here that! But I relax when I hear him continue on without so much as pausing, detailing some problem about the mechanics in an elevator. And then there are other things more important than what’s going on in the rest of the room, like Ben’s tongue caressing my lips and his heart beating beneath me.

We take it slowly at first; Ben can be very tender when he wants to be. His hands on my back are soft but needy. One travels up to the back of my neck, where his cold fingers send shivers down my spine. For my own part, my hands are looped under his arms and into his hair, caressing his scalp and brushing the sides of his face. I can feel him breathing harder – being on the bottom always gets him excited, and the new little bit of pressure beneath my crotch now tells me this is no exception.

I think I lost track of myself for a little, because the next thing I know I hear Lucy whispering up above me, “Whoa, you go guys!” and realize that a) my tongue is about as deep into Ben’s mouth as it can go, b) my hands have moved up under his shirt and around his shoulders to pull him to me, and c) I’m moaning a little. I slow down for a bit, twisting my tongue around his, and listen to the teacher’s droning voice in the background. So far, so good, despite my loss of control. When I feel Ben getting as needy as he was just now I usually go a little wild, and that combined with the added thrill of knowing that the other students (though certainly not the teacher) were watching my every move… Well, things happen.

Things happen indeed… Of course, by the time I’m sure that the teacher hasn’t noticed and have picked up the intensity again, it’s finally registered that Ben has one hand tickling the side of my left breast through my bra and the other on my ass. I know that he can undoubtedly feel my nipples poking into his chest from the softness of my breasts, and from the hardness beneath my crotch it wouldn’t surprise me if I’d been doing a little hip-grinding in response to his grasping fingers on my behind. How lovely. I make a mental note to try to refrain from moaning and groaning, and then decide that I may as well push this a little farther.

I break off for a minute and sit up, straddling his hips. He’s red in the face and breathing hard and just lies there staring up at me, the lust complementing the tenderness I always see in his eyes. I’m shaking – I certainly haven’t made out like this in a long while, but I’m also very, very nervous about what I’m about to do.

Not breaking eye-contact with Ben, I reach up behind me, inside my shirt, and unhook my bra. A little finagling and I manage to swing it down around and dangle it out in Lucy’s direction. I give my chest a little shake, enjoying the feeling of my breasts quivering in front of me. “Hold this, will you? I don’t think I’ll be needing it for a bit.”

Someone – more likely Max than Lucy, if I know him – takes the white cotton bra out of my hand to a chorus of combined snickers and gasps from the peanut gallery. Everyone close enough to know what’s going on back here knows me pretty well, and know that I can be pretty daring, but I think this was a little more than their used to. The sound of Lucy’s voice, though, carries nothing but awe. “You go, girl. You go.”

Ben reaches up, his hands weaving a path inside my blouse, up my stomach, cupping my tits. I break my rule a little and moan as he pinches my nipples lightly, and then bend down and kiss him again. This time I leave the tenderness aside. This is pure, lust, now.

While Ben’s hands are busy with my tits, I don’t let my own sit idle. One has quickly found it’s way beneath his shirt and is tracing circles around his nipples; the other caresses the side of his leg and ass. I suddenly wonder how far we’re going to take this.

Of course, I’m not alone. From the sound of it, there’s a bit of a betting pool going on up above. It churns around and around, but eventually Lucy ends it: “Ok, guys. We’ve got a betting pool going with about thirty bucks worth on whether or not one of you will orgasm this period. We’ll give that all to you if you go all the way.” Everyone holds their breath.

Our kissing slows down again, and I slowly, reluctantly, pull up and look Ben in the eyes. His face registers shock, but one hand, bless him, never stops caressing my tits, and even in my suddenly-wildly-nervous state I register the shockwaves flowing out from my nipple. I’m dimly aware that I’m grinding my crotch against his, and that whomever bet against one of us cuming will soon be loosing some money. And then, before I can say another word, my vision blurs over with pain and pleasure has Ben nearly twists one of my nipples full off. He’s made his decision, and with that one motion, made mine for me.

I begin to fumble with his zipper, but it gets stuck. I start to panic, and his hands grab mine and stop me from tearing it straight off. There’s a small noise as his zipper comes down, seemingly much louder than the teacher’s droning, which, luckily, continues unabated. Ben’s knuckles are pressing against my fly, and I can feel them circling gently around my clit; his other hand has a firm grip on my ass-cheek. Then there’s another small noise as my zipper comes down.

I’m terrified. I’m absolutely terrified. I also can’t think of the last time I was this turned on. But somehow, all of a sudden, my hands aren’t shaking. Ben lifts his hips a bit, and I slowly, tenderly pull the rim of his pants down and his cock out the top. The head glistens, red and swollen, as his hands find the hem of my jeans and pull them down, exposing my pink cotton panties. Sure enough, there’s a sizable damp spot in front.

Then my outward mood swings wildly once again, and I need him in me, right now, instantly. The panties get moved aside a little, the damp spot compressing into a damp line off to the side, and my glistening wet pussy is exposed. I look Ben in the eye, then shift forward and lower myself onto him in one quick motion.

I had to bite my lip hard to keep from screaming, but I must assume some sound escaped, because suddenly there was a deathly hush over the room and Lucy’s soft whisper, “He’s turning around.” Inwardly, the terror changes into resignation: He’s noticed. We’ve pushed the boundaries too far. He’ll be back here in a second, and then I’m going to have to explain to my parents, and the whole school, what I was doing fucking my boyfriend under the table in the back of physics class.

And some small voice in the back of my mind says “Scew it.” If I’m going to get caught, I may as well satisfy the burning desire in my pussy while doing it. I move my hips up, then down, the feeling of Ben’s cock shifting within me suddenly the entirety of my world, the most gratifying thing I’ve ever experienced. I feel so warm, so wet – I’m probably sweating, probably drenching Ben and the floor with fluids. And all I care about is that his cock is so hard I know he’ll cum soon, and I just hope I can get off with him.

Then, a miracle: “Mr. Spanner, can I use the restroom?” It’s Gordon’s voice. The teacher mumbles something incoherent, which Gordon clearly takes as permission, and once the door swings shut the endless babble of physics problems begins once again. We’re safe.

Not that I ever stopped humping. The resignation turns to elation, and suddenly my hips are only moving a little faster, slapping his a little louder. Lucy and Max and Jill and the others in front of me set up an inane conversation to drown out our noise, but I know where their eyes and minds are. I know they can see Ben’s cock slipping in and out of my dripping pussy, his hand kneading my tits beneath my shirt, my hand tucked beneath me at work on my clit. And I know by know that everyone in the room (with one exception) knows that we’re making out back here, possibly even that we’re getting off – but except for those select few, I doubt anyone knows that I can feel Ben’s boner hitting the back of my pussy, feel his back arching beneath me as he races towards orgasm, feel my vagina clamping down on his cock so hard I couldn’t lift my hips even if I had any control over those muscles any more, feel my body convulsing, feel warm liquid pulsing up into my pussy, feel all my nerves burning and twitching and exploding and…

*********

Lucy hands me the thirty dollars as we exit the room. I accept them silently, with one hand – the other one is still gripped tight by Ben. He hasn’t let go since we came except when we were getting our clothes back on, and then only for a moment. He also hasn’t said a word, only looked at me with such a deep tenderness in his eyes as you wouldn’t believe. I look at the thirty dollars and carefully thumb out ten for Gordon with a small smile – “Couldn’t have done it without you.” The others giggle, and Gordon turns down the money, saying, “Just so long as I get to see the whole thing next time.”

“Next time?” I glance at Ben, who just smiles. “Well, if this is to become a regular occurrence, I hereby pledge this money towards buying a blanket and some pillows. We may as well be comfortable!” They laugh, and Lucy shakes her head. “You’re my hero, Abbey, my absolute hero. Maybe, just maybe…” She glances speculatively at Max, then shakes her head; the rest of us have a good chuckle at his hopeful look.

After we came, Ben and I just lay there for a long while. Despite the undoubtedly deafening amount of noise we made, Mr. Spanner’s droning seems to have continued unabated, and afterwards he apparently assigned more homework that most of us will never do. Ben’s hand gripped mine, hard, and we just lay there, enjoying the warm sticky feeling in our crotches as his cock slowly softened and slipped out, and the tender feeling of each other’s soft, breathing bodies. When I looked up once, most of the eyes in the group had moved off of me and on to Lucy: She was leaning back against the window such that the overhang hid her face from the front of the room, and her right hand was making a quivering bulge in her crotch while she stared at us, mouth hanging slightly open, breathing heavy. She came right as the bell went, silently convulsing above us, face whipping through an infinity of expressions from agony to elation, her eyes never leaving Ben and I. She licked her fingers afterwards, tentatively, then jolted as she suddenly remembered where she was.

We’re all standing around outside in a small circle. Jill has her legs just a little too tightly together; Max and Gordon both have noticeable bulges down below. Lucy doesn’t look satisfied now, and I can see her eyeing the aforementioned bulges out of the corner of her eye. Ben and I, though, feel like we’re standing on a cloud. I squeeze his hand a little harder, and wonder if it will feel this way after every time.