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Hurrying down the empty hallway with forced nonchalance so obvious that the inanimate lockers might call her bluff, Sarah couldn't help peeking into every classroom. She knew which one mattered, naturally. Only one of the tiny windows in these needlessly heavy doors would show what she came for. She slowed as she passed it, looking even more suspicious to nobody in particular, and her breath caught. Elliot was in there. She veered straight into the adjacent bathroom, maintaining her terrible poker face until she confirmed she was alone. She took a deep breath and let it out as an unsteady sigh. "Does everything going according to plan mean you have to go through with it?," she asked herself in the mirror. Her backwards self didn't look too sure about it.
She went into the furthest stall, standing with her feet where they'd go if she were going. She closed and latched the door with just her pinkie. Tearing off a square of toilet paper, she rubbed the finger for germophobia's sake... then dropped the crumpled wipe to the floor. It stopped halfway there. Sarah swallowed. "It's still weird this feels so real." She unlatched the door and stepped out, glancing back toward the spot where her real body must still be standing. In this magical simulation deal happening inside her head, there was nothing there.
She stalked out from the bathroom's curved entryway like a prey animal, checking corners and glancing about. It was very silly and she knew it. If anyone were standing there, they'd either be frozen snapshots without sight to see her, or else they'd think her lookie-loo routine was bizarre. The nearby classroom looked motionless through its tiny viewport - all backs of heads and eerie silence. She slowly opened the door, gritting her teeth like she didn't already know the teacher would be still as a statue at the front. She sighed with relief nonetheless. "I gotta work on my confidence in this." Walking up the aisle to stand roughly beside Elliot, she lightly touched his far shoulder, then the near one, making sure touch alone wouldn't shift her point-of-view. She also felt up his muscled back, because seriously: dang.
Leaning closer, she admired the familiar shape of his face, stuck in idle amusement. His frozen cheek still felt warm when she kissed him. So did his jeans beneath her wandering hands. There was no reaction, no pulse, no spark of life in his imaginary body, but she still blushed as she rummaged around in spots she'd only gotten a quick grope at when they were dating. She kissed him again, hasty and lightheaded. "Remember that time I admitted thinking of you when I masturbate? When you stopped stammering, you said I should do it whenever I liked." She rotated him on his lab-room stool, denim sliding easily atop hardwood. "This counts... right?"
She knelt and opened his zipper like a Christmas present. Some blush-inducing exploration brought his thing out through the front of his boxers, and the smell of it was more enticing than it had any right to be. Between glances toward his immobile face, she kissed the head, then the soft shaft - then licked from the dark tan tip almost to the cotton holding back his pubic hair. She got goosebumps just from squeezing his unresponsive thighs. "I wish you had let me do this for real." She sat back against her sneakers, idly stroking her legs, then remembered nobody was watching and reached clean into her pants. "Or at least, I wish this gimmick wasn't single-player." She closed her eyes. She opened her mouth, letting her tongue hang out a bit. She thought hard about wanting to move him - and now she saw through his eyes. He glanced around, now feeling her guilty arousal as a twitch in the open air. Her body's ready posture and hungry expression were more embarrassing than the act of shimmying his pants off. Nonetheless, both details made it easy to squeeze himself fuller, and a quick look at all the faces that couldn't see him turned his half-flaccid flopping about into a proper shaft to grip.
He stood up, knocking his seat over, knowing its clattering fall couldn't alert anyone to the exhibitionism right in front of them. Was it weird that she felt less conflicted jerking off with his body than she did walking in with hers? His hand reached to brush her own expectant face. It only made her remember what had inspired that expression. Imagining the view upward now, with Elliot's bits inches from her face, excited her even more than stroking her ex's dong with his own broad hand. Still, she couldn't deny boys had fun. Behind all her fondling of this firm new boyjunk with rough new hands, the effect he had on himself was friggin' fantastic. She wished she could've made him feel this way by more traditional means. He exhaled loudly - his voice in first-person making her heart thrill, her lust in turn making his hips press forward - and when he opened his eyes, a clear drop of fluid ran down her own chin.
Swallowing hard, he put a hand on her own forehead, and her own warm tongue was silky-smooth against his sensitive tip. More precum trailed out as he bent his knees and pressed into the pliant stillness of her upper lip. His other hand touched her temple - her inexpert jerking paled in comparison with the intimate heat of her mouth. (And she wasn't even trying!) She scarcely dared to go further than the bulbous tip. He licked his lips loudly, impatently wondering how it must taste... and with that thought bouncing around her mind, he quickly found himself spurting an opportunity to find out. His tense legs shook, rubbing the soft underside of his member against her tongue, and his shameless moaning was music to his ears. It wasn't her first male orgasm, but even in her limited experience, she knew it was a damn good one. Nevertheless--
-- she opened her own eyes and tilted her head back, squeaking at the hot mess in her mouth. She swallowed it before she had to learn whether her imaginary self had a gag reflex. Even then, it took several tries. This stuff was so thick! It was slippery, and heterogenous, and hot, so very hot, and oh dear god was she horny again. Releasing fake-brain-Elliot's libido didn't do anything for her fake-brain-self. She tilted her head to get past his hovering hands and dove mouth-first onto his schlong, grunting needfully around its thick warmth. In his hand it had throbbed with his pulse. Here in her mouth, it only moved where her thirsty slurping angled it, and all her sucking only pulled a few more drops from its length. She grabbed his knees and went deep as she could stand to, staring at his taut belly too close to make out individual hairs. She felt cheated when she slipped off... though his goofy O-face got a snicker out of her. "At least you're even hard enough to fake-blow." She blinked. A terrible idea took her. Distractedly mulling it over, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and only briefly recoiled from the sticky stain before remembering it didn't matter. It didn't matter. "Well, then." Before she could talk herself out of it--
-- she opened her eyes in the bathroom stall, back in reality. A square of toilet paper lay on the floor. Her mouth tasted funny just by tasting like its empty self. She shifted her jaw around, vaguely wishing it still felt sore from stretching. She checked her watch: one minute, six seconds. She was only out (in?) for four or five minutes. Nevertheless she was taken with the same dissatisfied and hormone-amped bone-town fever that she'd felt inside her private little head-sim. After a cautious peek below the walls to check that she was still alone, she touched the inseam on her khakis. The feeling must've hit her body just as she returned. If she'd been physically experiencing all of that in a sort of accelerated catatonia then she'd be soaking wet. Her ladyjunk was only just gearing up production, leaving her slick enough to make rubbing that inseam a distracting pass-time. She stopped, balling her fists in concentration.
She tossed another piece of toilet paper into the air and walked out the moment it froze. The little white square limply rolled off her shoulder as she jogged out. No cautious peeking this time - she ditched her jacket and shirt, reminding herself they weren't really on a bathroom floor. The lone person in the hallway had her full attention as she kicked her shoes off and dropped trou. He didn't move, of course. She burst into the classroom in her admittedly plain underwear. Her bravado faltered when she had to unclasp her bra, and she chided herself for hesitating before pulling her panties down. Even alone inside her head, being well and truly naked in public was a singular experience.
Sarah strode up the aisle again, turned to face Elliot (his unmoving face now looking down at his notes) and swept his tandem desk clear. His lab partner slouched enough that he wouldn't matter. She stepped back, pressing her bare skin against some stranger's immobile shoulders, and willed herself to occupy her brain's freezeframe-accurate copy of her ex-boyfriend. From his perspective, her stark nudity was thrilling even to her own libido. He scooted the stool aside and fumbled with his pants, genuinely snarling at the backwards zipper. He was getting hard in a hurry and the tightness was delightful agony. (She briefly wondered if she could feel sympathy for pain she herself experienced.) His cock swung out as the jeans finally came down his thighs again. He sat up on the table and kicked them off along with his sneakers. She nearly left his shirt on, then remembered what was underneath and literally tore it away. Using his muscles for such a gratuitous display obviated any need to fluff himself harder. She did it anyway. He laid back on the long desk, legs together, looking down his fantastic pecs as he stroked his pounding erection. He almost forgot to put his hands aside before popping back into herself.
She bit her lip, seeing him through her own eyes again - laid out, rock-hard, and looking up at her with an excited expression. The look was definitely hers, even through the filter of his features, but it made her long to kiss him again. It wouldn't be the same. They'd done that for real, and this one-way simulation could only disappoint. Instead she leaned over his toned hips and kissed the tip of his cock. Fake or not, it was good enough that she did it a few more times... then suckled it... then licked the curving side from base to tip... she had to remind herself he couldn't feel her greedy affections. She climbed up, finding the desk significantly taller this time around, and crawled over him until her hips straddled his. Her knees barely fit on the narrow table. Firmly planting one hand on his muscular shoulder, she reached down to guide him in, catching herself stroking again at a dick that felt even bigger in her shorter fingers. When his head pushed off-center against her slick entrance, she rolled her hips around, absolutely loving the plush heat teasing at the rim of her pussy. Grinding against that soft-topped rod until even her outer labia felt cool with her wetness, she remembered how good just her tongue had felt, and loosed a goofy snicker she was glad nobody heard. "No sense worrying you'll go off early."
Finally she pressed him where she needed him and lowered herself down. Even now it stretched her, pliant bell-end opening the way for a rigid shaft with a shape that felt so, so right. She squirmed around on just the tip and suddenly understood those stupid internet jokes. Straightening her back, she eagerly slid further on, and her open-mouthed bliss snapped to wide-eyed pain when the strain of her hymen breaking caught her by surprise. "Gah! ... not looking forward to doing that again." She slipped down some more, regaining her composure, and twice caught herself looking down in wonder at how she hadn't taken all of him yet. She shivered when her hips finally came to rest against Elliot's.
Her right hand wandered over his abs and up his chest. Leaning forward over him, barely shadowing his smooth skin beneath the classroom's diffuse lights, she started riding him, putting that gorgeous cock to work. She could hardly stand the heat of him or that deviously lobed cross-section past the halfway mark. Anyway, the broad backside of his glans made her toes curl each time it slid toward the exit. Her left hand worked diligently below her loosely-kempt pubes, but honestly, it was only gilding the lily. She spared a glance around, wondering how lurid the rapid bouncing rhythym she'd fallen into must look, and lowered her blushing face with a high giggle. "This is crazy!" With her heart pounding and her nervous laughter barely silenced, she embraced it.
She forced herself to sit up taller, grabbing her ankles. Her thighs burned as she pistoned that long-desired penis in and out. She tossed her hair back and arched her spine, sticking her tits out for an ex-boyfriend who couldn't see her and a roomful of frozen teenagers who didn't even know her. Her restrained panting became quiet moaning, and she made herself let it out, keening or shouting with each lift that stopped just short of popping off him completely, until a long groan rolled into a shrill gasp - and then a shuddering, satisfied, release. She gripped her knees, sweating in the cool air, still minutely shifting up and down, until she had to let herself relax. Her legs simply didn't have it in them to lift her off or hold her up.
Sarah started listing forward, thumbs tracing the curves up Elliot's torso as her hands slipped further and further toward his shoulders. She could smell his boring cologne and the familiar tang of his perspiration. His smiling face in profile was so handsome. The afterglow of masturbating with his body only underlined how much she wished he'd been there to enjoy it with her. If nothing else, it'd be nice to get another dose of that hot spunk from... she stopped, holding his well-defined biceps. "Maybe I can enjoy this for both of us."
She straightened up again, aching and tired, but she wouldn't need to stay there long. Fighting significant inertia and post-orgasm oversensitivity, she drew herself halfway up his shaft, blushing at the audible slish of her skin on his. She rubbed her tired thighs. They stayed put long enough for her to stare at Elliot's statuesque body and then find herself staring back up at her own lustful expectation. Elliot's hands caressed her knees as she got used to the feel of him. Her lips absolutely clung to his thick cock. Her pressing heat was amazing with every little shift he made, getting his heels back onto the small table, and when he lifted his hips to push into her it was almost as good as the other way around.
Her body stayed in place as he moved against her, but her pussy was true-to-life, and each quick drop out left him breathless. He had to slow each descent of his arched back to match the needful haste of his body-flexing thrusts. He grunted gutterally, thrilled as ever by the sound of his voice. Each pull outward would've been just as fantastic for him as it'd been for her. Would've been, hell - was, right here and now, with her behind the wheel. His hands moved atop hers, indirectly squeezing her tense thighs, and he slapped his hips to the hilt each time. Maybe it was the half-dick handicap she'd given him. Maybe deeper was just better for guys. She didn't know. She didn't care. Her body could take it all and then be tight as new when he came back for more. She could hardly control himself. She had neither the experience nor the inclination to hold back his climax, or even to approach it gracefully. He panted through clenched teeth for the audience of nobodies and found her legs flexing beneath his forceful hands. At one unmistakably critical twinge of raw physical pleasure, he pressed deep as he could go, shooting a load she'd already tasted, and when his ass flopped back down against the desk, she came with him like she was glued there. Her lips felt unbelievable, tucked tight against his body - making clear that this was as close as any two people could get. He bucked nonetheless, staring up at her own still-frozen body, seeing herself stiff-nippled and red-cheeked as he might've seen her if he'd only said "yes." She couldn't help feeling a note of pride as he ran dry and twitched with false spurts.
Back inside herself, she gasped at the fullness she felt. Her awkwardly-folded legs hugged his motionless thighs as she closed her eyes to appreciate the deep, penetrating heat inside her. She slipped her hands from beneath his hovering fingers and rubbed where it all must've come out - briefly amazed at how far up that looked. She didn't know where she'd fit it all. With a long and aggressively satisfied sigh, she leaned forward again, putting her hands on either side of his head. Her hair framed the face he might've used to look up at her. Right now it was looking where her breasts hung over his chest, which was good enough, under the circumstances. She sighed - this time not nearly so satisfied. "You're gonna make some girl stupidly happy some day." She licked her lips as they approached his. "Too bad it'll never be m--"
-- the door to the next stall over slammed shut. "--eee?!" Sarah covered her mouth. On the floor, opposite the two squares of dry toilet paper, she could see the shadow of someone locking her stall door and unbuckling her belt. If that stranger had noticed the noise, she didn't comment. Sarah slowly brought her pigeon-toed feet together and stood ramrod-straight. She checked her clothing (present, worn), the time (roughly two minutes), and her inseam (utterly fucking soaked).
With her lips pressed tight together, she leaned back and flushed the empty toilet, then stepped to the sink with exaggerated care, loudly washing her hands as she stared at her mortified face. She rinsed and soaped and scrubbed until her blush faded at least enough that nobody'd mistake her for a stop sign. Quietly as possible, she took deep breaths, letting them out slowly and for the most part evenly. What she'd learned from this experiment was that no amount of diddling her magic-fake hoo-ha did an iota of good for her actual vagina and the waves of lust it was now begging her body to act on. She'd just scheduled a full day of thinking about her ex-boyfriend naked. "You idiot," she muttered at herself as she left. She ignored the offended "Hey!" from the occupied stall.
In the hallway, she could see some people a ways off, moving and talking of their own volition. She paused in front of the classroom door, catching herself reaching for the handle out of fast habit. She could hear the professor's muffled voice from here. She hadn't realized how quiet it'd been until now. Elliot was there, of course - one hairy noggin among many, shifting slightly as he changed posture. He was still there when she walked back toward class. He must be - he certainly wasn't in her head.