You'll Never Know My Name Ch. 01

I've been stroking myself for almost two hours. My fingers, hidden in my jeans with one button open, are soaked. I try to contain the little sounds of satisfaction that come from my half-open lips.

No one to the right and left of me in at least two places. And above all, no one behind. I've found an ideal spot in the amphitheater, trying to survive the tedium of these masterfully...deadly lectures. Despite the impressive number of students in my class, most of them fought for the front seats. That's what makes (and allows) my pleasure.

Masturbating out of boredom during class. That's what my first year of medical school is all about, where I have no desire to study. A whim of my parents. Which I gave in to in order to have a year of peace at home.

The monotony and the obligation to sit for hours on end always set my hormones on fire. I'm no longer ashamed of my desire. I exult in this exhibition, this provocation and this rebellion against the system.

A provocation that, for the moment, has gone unnoticed.

Part of me is terrified of being caught in the act and humiliated in front of 200 people. But my guts are boiling at the thought. The mixture of the two creates a perpetual tension that makes the act all the more delicious. Every day, I feel like I'm taking my jeans down another centimetre... How far would I be prepared to go?

Suspense.

The ringing aborted my last little orgasm. Too bad. I put the button back on my jeans and threw my bag over my shoulder, before disappearing into the corridor.

Swallowing my sandwich while watching a few YouTube videos satiates my body a little, but not my mind. I stare blasély at the stunted silhouettes on their course sheets.

I head for the girls' toilets. I push open the door and discover two 3rd-year students staring at themselves in the mirror. I sink into a cubicle and rest my buttocks on the cold frame, sighing. My jeans and thong fall to my ankles.

I observe my thighs, reddened by the perpetual rubbing of the jeans over long hours. I vaguely waxed last night. I don't really care though, I like this unabashed punk look. Pimp my pussy!

I laugh at my little joke. The two girls still haven't left the sink. Damn, those bitches can be chatty.

I start running my fingers over my vulva. It's a bit dry, but it doesn't matter. I like to feel the cold between my thighs. I move back and forth a few times. But the pleasure doesn't come. I can't stand their voices.

I can't get any peace. Damn, at least guys don't spend an hour in front of the mirror after doing their thing. I raise my eyes to the sky and a crazy idea brings a smile to my face.

What if I...? I dare you.

I push open the bathroom door, zipping up my jeans on the way out, under the scornful gaze of the two bitches. I take advantage of a lull in the corridor traffic to enter this forbidden place, with panache and without any embarrassment. Into the men's room.

I can't make out anyone in the immediate vicinity, and forcing my luck, I immediately take refuge in the last stall for some peace and quiet. I sit cross-legged so that no one can see my colorful converse, which would attract too much attention.

I make myself comfortable so as to caress myself quietly. It was definitely a good idea to come here. How exotic!

A man enters the bathroom and relieves himself in the urinal. I wait for him to come out before continuing, as if the sound of my fingers on my clitoris could be heard. A second boy enters and ventures into the stall next to mine.

And...nothing. He's ghosting, just like me. I see boxers and pants appear in my field of vision. He's waiting for his moment of privacy. The first boy leaves.

To my surprise, no disturbing noise follows my neighbor's (relative) solitude. I can see his left ankle trembling nervously. He sighs and seems to breathe deeply as if to calm himself.

I say in my thoughts, amused by the situation. I wait patiently, without a sound, my upper lips tightly closed and my lower lips delicately parted by my fingers.

The young man pulls out his mobile and a few minutes later, I hear the jungle of PornHub quickly muffled by a clumsy lowering of the volume.

I almost burst out laughing, such is the comicality of the situation. With a certain malice, I press my ear against the wall, listening to the faint murmur of a woman who seems to be enjoying herself. A little shiver of excitement seizes me as I hear my neighbor pleasuring himself. Fap fap fap.

I'm enjoying myself simultaneously. But I'm actually more amused than excited. The fear and unease I should be feeling have completely left my mind.

I hear the porn actor visibly cumming on the girl's face, commenting in a very macho tone:

- Ah, you see, all women like that.

A scathing reply escapes my mouth, half-voiced.

- Some maybe, but none like it in their hair.

My neighbor flinches as if he's seen the Devil and nearly drops his smartphone in the toilet. In a trembling, falsely serious voice, he answers louder than I do.

- Who...who is it?

- It's your conscience, child, I reply, not even trying to disguise my feminine voice.

- Are you serious? What are you doing here?

- The same thing you are, I continued in the same tone.

- W...what? Did you film me?

- No, relax...

- You do know you're with the boys, don't you?

- Thanks, I can still read a sign.

- But why?

- It's quiet. There's soap. And no bitches chatting

for hours while you put your fishing down.

- Er...all right...

There's an awkward silence, so I start whistling. His curiosity is stronger than his shame and his desire to run away after getting beaten up. In his little voice, he finally dares to ask the question that seems to be burning a hole in his heart.

- Were you serious when you said that...you were doing the same thing as me?

- Yes, I was.

- Ah...

The situation seems so surreal to him that he discreetly pulls up his shorts as if I could see higher than his ankles.

- You don't believe me, do you? I asked, incredulous.

- I have to admit...it's such an...impossible situation.

I let out a little laugh. I slide my thong down my legs before removing it and revealing it to my neighbor in the hole separating the booths.

My neighbor seems dumbfounded by what he sees.

- What, you've never seen a girl's thong before?

- Yes, I have... he says, hallucinating. In fact, you're really serious.

- I've told you that.

A new silence fills the space. We both seem to have forgotten the time. He addresses me again, his palpable shyness gradually disappearing.

- Is this the first time you've enjoyed yourself here?

- Yes, here. Otherwise, I do it almost all the time.

- Oh, you're stressed too?

- No, I'm just royally pissed off.

- You've got a funny way of keeping yourself busy.

- Yes, I do. Does that shock you?

- No, it doesn't.

Small silence. And I dare to make the first move.

- Does it turn you on to know that I'm touching myself just a few centimeters away from you?

He hesitates. And answers half an octave lower.

- I admit...yes. So much.

Tension builds and our voices agree in a knowing, naughty tone. I pray no one will come in. I start the hostilities by sliding my hand between my thighs again.

- Have you come yet? I asked, my voice parasitic with a sigh of relief.

- No... but it was close.

- Do it.

He hesitates. Only three seconds.

- Okay, then...

A strange porn movie begins, with sound but no image. I let myself be lulled by the repetitive sound of his masturbated sex, while I offer him my moans of feminine pleasure in return. Long minutes pass. The excitement is intense, but neither of us yields to the temptation to drop the mask.

Each in our own cabin, we indulge in our own personal pleasure. Blind complicity sets in. I feel my orgasm rising as my clitoris is swollen and red with desire. I let her enjoy the musical show...

This excites her even more. The sound of her coming and going becomes more pronounced. It won't be long now. Slowly coming back down to earth, I whisper loud enough for him to hear, while remaining very sensual.

- Come on your fingers.

He thinks for a moment, then nods silently. His orgasm is more timid, but I can hear his ejaculation on the ceramic. He wipes his sex with two of his fingers and reaches for the low opening in the stall.

I get off the toilet, kneel down and bring his fingers to my lips. I suck them gently as if I were tasting custard. I drop a kiss before climbing back up, smelling the scent of his sex on my skin, after making sure he hadn't caught a glimpse of my face.

- Oh fuck... he let out, overwhelmed by the experience.

- Mmmh...you're good. Maybe I'll ask you for more next time.

- Well, I...

I stand up and pull my jeans up at once, cutting off his sentence. I turn to him and say in a confident tone.

- Tomorrow, same place, same time, if you feel like de-stressing again.

He panics.

- Uh okay...but don't you want to exchange our...

- I don't want to. You won't know my name, my number or my face. Just my voice. And our little secret. And that's all there is to it.

He seems taken aback by my assurance. He answers nothing.

I gloat inwardly as I play with this mysterious young man. At last, perhaps, these days of trouble will finally become more fun...

I leave the cabin and rush towards the exit. A man is standing in the doorway and his eyes widen as he sees me storming out.

I just smile and wink at him.

- Thanks for the soap.

And I feel his gaze settle on my form as I head for the next classroom, licking the corner of my lips a little.