From The Max

They had known each other from university. It was there Max first impressed her.

Behind a book he slowly lowered his zip and from his pants he pulled his gun. It was huge and she gasped as she looked at its dusky, pink form. With her heart in her dry mouth, she watched as his hand began to stroke.

The history lesson faded; the industrial revolution irrelevant- there was more industry here, now, before her very eyes. Absorbed, she watched as his hand soothed and moved the skin up and down. She gasped when she saw the head pop free of its covering skin. He looked up at her and grinned. She wanted to grin back, but couldn't. She was frozen.

She couldn't believe that thing could be between his legs, that it could stay there with so little indication, that he had kept it, hidden, so majestic and beautiful, for so long. He should have been showing it to everyone.

She wanted to touch it but sat, unable to move, overwhelmed by the vision. He kept stroking, she saw it throb, the head big and red. Below, where he held it and stroked, he couldn't close his hand around completely. She looked at her hands and knew she'd need both of hers to circle it completely. She wanted to replace his hand with hers but her inertia was overwhelming. She saw it, so stiff and wondered how he kept it there in his pants. It was lucky the book was so big.

She licked her lips and sighed, Max kept stroking as that thing twitched. Her hand stole down to lodge between her legs and she held herself firmly. She was so wet.

He grinned at her again. He pointed it at her and continued to stroke. She could see the slit in the head. She jammed her hand tight against the junction between her thighs.

She almost moaned, but caught herself. Her thighs were spread; both hands were at her junction and slowly rubbed.

Suddenly he stiffened and stretched out in his seat. His hand moved faster. Up and down it went and she worried he'd knock the book away.

He groaned, looked at her and she saw him aim that thing at her. She was shocked when white liquid shot from his little slit and like a rope, for a moment, it joined them before it fell to the floor with only a part still clinging to her dress.

His hand continued, hers did too as she teetered on edge and another rope shot out to join them momentarily. She looked behind as she stifled a moan and her hips moved forward. Her eyes met those of Mrs. Pickering

Another shot launched itself from Max and fell, not long enough to join them. Her hips rose as she trembled and between her thighs she flooded. Mrs. Pickering stood, her face red with her eyes large, and her mouth open.

Max launched another two ropes, each becoming shorter until the white stuff simply welled up out of that thing to coat his hand. Gracie was tight with electricity that coursed around her body.

Again he looked at her and his tongue touched his lip. He turned a little more and saw Mrs. Pickering, a hand on a breast as she hesitated. She'd caught him, white handed and he shuddered. Quickly he stuffed that thing back in his pants, and leaned forward at his desk, as his book fell to the floor.

Gracie too leaned forward at her desk, taut with the crackles of electricity still coursing her body as Mrs. Pickering seemed to snap to a decision. Between them she suddenly strode, to the front of the class.

"What was the impact of the steam engine on the industrial revolution? Max?"

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