A beautiful spring day, one of those early warm ones where suddenly there's a lot of unexpected skin everywhere, and you can't not look, and I'm stuck at the library studying.
Girls are lying out in the sun untying their bikini tops and I cannot focus. The buzzing of too much coffee and not enough sleep and oh god those shorts she's wearing are so small. Just look at them. I want to run up and smell her.
OK, I'm crazy here. I gotta get off. I can't think, can't study. I gotta get off. Just rub one out and get back to work.
I'll just head up to the third floor where there's a single-stall bathroom. I'm so hard I'd be an obvious creep just walking around with my pants tented, so I put my left hand in my pocket and hold my dick against me. Sure, it makes me walk a little funny, and who knows why you're walking around with one hand in your pocket. But it also gives me a chance to rub myself. Just knowing what I'm going to do has me even hotter.
Door's locked. Fuck.
Gotta use the regular can. Back downstairs. This one at least is empty. I shut myself in the far back stall and start stroking away. Gotta get off. Christ. My dick is drooling pre-cum. Closer.
The door creaks open. I freeze.
If I squeeze gently, though, it's totally silent. Am I breathing too heavily? Can he hear me? Am I being so quiet it's obvious I'm doing something I shouldn't?
Could I come from just squeezing my cock like this?
When he flushes the urinal and goes to wash his hands, I take a couple experimental slow strokes to see if I can do it quietly enough. Good. It's almost hotter knowing I have to be silent.
He leaves and I can breathe deeply again. No, this is way better. My cock's almost entirely slick with precum, and I wet my hand with spit to supplement it. It makes a little noise, but not so much you could hear it outside, I don't think.
