He Showed Her His Porn (750 Words)

This story was written for the 2024 Literotica 750 Word Challenge. Below this line are exactly 750 words.

It started innocently. Required class, shit lecturer. Read his notes verbatim, never once looking up. But attendance counted, so I started watching anime on my laptop.

I soon realized someone was watching with me. As our heroes entered a pitch-black cave, I made eye contact with her reflection on my glossy screen. Cute Asian girl, two rows above me, her heart-shaped face propped on one hand. She looked as bored as I felt.

Her eyes widened. She buried her face in her hands, then peeked between her fingers. Amused, I put on subtitles for her.

I saw her again as the credits rolled. This time she smiled shyly and clasped her hands in supplication. More? I obliged.

Next week, I put a pair of mirrored sunglasses on my desk. In its curved lenses, I saw her slip into the seat diagonally behind me. We watched in companionable silence, using my glasses to make faces at each other at key moments.

The third class, I left an earbud on her desk. She clutched it to her chest and flashed me a breath-taking smile.

We settled into a routine. Life was good for a few weeks.

Then I fucked up.

Have I mentioned being nineteen? I watched porn, a lot, and not even vanilla porn. No, I liked femdom shoe fetish stuff. That day, it was a classy flick called Her First Foot Boy.

I could only stare in frozen horror as, on screen, he kissed the glossy, pointed toe of her shoe. He licked along the soaring arch. He took the slender stiletto between pursed lips.

Lunging forward, I slammed the screen shut. I didn't dare look at her. I spent the rest of class staring straight ahead, back rigid and ears burning.

She was kind enough to leave my earbud on her desk.

I let myself skip one class, then slunk back to my usual seat. I'd at least make it easy for her to avoid me.

Indeed, it wasn't the shuffle of her sneakers but the thump of heels that I heard behind me. Who wore heels to an 8 a.m. lecture? Half of us were in slippers. Curious, I got out my sunglasses.

It was her. She made a show of looking around her desk, then frowned at me, tapping one ear. Where's my earbud?

Heart pounding, I passed it over my shoulder.

Could she possibly not have understood what she was seeing? She dressed like an international student. Maybe they didn't have perverts in China.

I wasn't going to question my luck. I started the show.

But my mind kept returning to the sudden change in her footwear. In her whole outfit. Could it be a coincidence? Anything else seemed...optimistic.

She kept wearing them. Low black pumps with round toes, but heels nonetheless. Paired with crisp blouses, hip-hugging skirts, and pantyhose in an 8 a.m. lecture, they made an impression.

Hope kindled in earnest when she took to stretching her legs past the front of her desk. In the tiered auditorium, that left her shoes bobbing by my hip. Sometimes she let one hang there for minutes on end.

I grew bold. One day, I let my hand fall to my side, onto her foot. Knowing she could see me via the sunglasses on my desk, I affected a baffled expression.

In truth, I was exultant. A woman's shoe, in my hand! A real woman, warm and firm. How many times had I dreamed of this moment? I savored the smooth leather and raspy nylon.

I pushed my luck as far as I dared before I glanced down. As if only then realizing, I snatched my hand away and mouthed a mortified apology.

I hadn't fooled her.

Nor had I offended her. She kicked me gently, then mouthed an insincere "Sorry," smirking. Mocking.

Her foot stroked my hip. The invitation was clear. My hand crept back and this time stayed there.

Class ended all too soon. I knew I couldn't pass up this opportunity. Mustering my courage, I turned and introduced myself.

"What a pleasure it is finally to make your acquaintance." The subtle emphasis was not lost on me. "My name is Kylie."

Her slow, careful cadence made it sound like two separate words.

I, the native speaker, stumbled over my next words. "I was wondering. Do you want to hang out, sometime? We could...watch...something."

"Something?" She arched a knowing, teasing eyebrow.

I flushed. "Whatever---whatever you want, I suppose."

"Whatever I want," she mused. "How...appropriate."

The meet-cute with the subtitles comes from a comment I read long ago on some internet forum. The rest was inspired by a recurring fear of mine, which in real life would probably not end as happily as I have depicted it here.

If you don't have a big old softy like me writing your story, you would do well to create a separate user account on your laptop or phone for your porn. Yes, phones can do multiple users now, at least if you use Android.

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