The Virtual Class I Took Advantage of in the Worst Way

Those who already know me from my other stories know I have one very specific weakness: I enjoy giving myself pleasure like nobody else. I like sex with company, of course, but there’s something about the intimacy of plunging my fingers all the way inside myself with no witnesses that no other body can give me. And, curiously enough, the same thing happens when I write: it comes more easily, more naturally, and is much more exciting for me to describe one of my solo sessions than any other story.

Sometimes I make myself come two or three times in a single day. Other weeks, on the other hand, I don’t even remember I have a pussy down there asking for attention. It depends on my mood, the weather, and how much free time I have between work and college.

What I had been noticing over those past few months, though, was a certain routine. My last few masturbations had been so alike, so predictable, they were almost hardly worth it. Two fingers, the clit, a quick orgasm, sleep. That was why I had been looking for new ways to arouse myself, different settings, little risks that would bring back that urgency I’d had when I was younger and everything was forbidden.

A couple of weeks ago I woke up overheated, turned on for no reason at all. I hadn’t dreamed anything in particular, but my body was asking for cock from the very first second of the day. I spent the entire morning at the office thinking about the moment I’d get home, close the door, and ram something deep inside me. And another, naughtier thought joined that one: coming up with a different way to do it.

By the time I finally left work, my panties were already soaked, stuck to my pussy like a second skin. I walked the four blocks to my apartment with my thighs pressed together, feeling how every step rubbed exactly where it shouldn’t if I wanted to arrive intact.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I took off my work clothes and stood in front of the hallway mirror in a black lace set. I liked what I saw. My nipples stood hard against the thin fabric of my bra and, almost without deciding to, I began running my hands over myself. My neck, my breasts, my stomach, my hip. I slipped my hand inside my panties and parted my lips with two fingers, feeling how wet I was: a thick strand hung between my fingers when I pulled them out. I brought them to my mouth and sucked them slowly, watching myself in the mirror, savoring my own juices while I pinched one nipple through the lace with my other hand.

Just then, the phone rang.

I let it go. It rang again a few minutes later, and I ignored it again. On the third time, resigned and in a bad mood, I answered with my fingers still inside my pussy.

—Hello? —I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

—Mariela, did you see the email? —It was Romina, a classmate—. They changed the class time. It starts in fifteen minutes.

—What? No, I didn’t see it —I replied, staring at the phone screen as if it were to blame for something.

—I’m letting you know just in case. I know you missed last week, so you’d better not be absent today too.

She was right. I couldn’t afford to skip another class. I hung up with irritation rising in my throat, got dressed again almost by grabbing at whatever I could, my pussy still throbbing beneath my panties, and went to set up my laptop at the desk. And it was there, while I arranged the charger cable, that I came up with the most perfect and dirtiest idea I’d had in a long time.

If I can’t finish what I started, at least I’ll torture myself for a while.

I was soaked. I wasn’t going to waste all that desire on a boring class about procedural law. So I went to the drawer, took out my suction-cup dildo—a thick, veiny cock, the kind that opens me up properly—and stuck it firmly to the wooden seat of the chair. I pulled down the trousers I had just put on, along with the black panties. From the waist down, I was completely naked, my pussy gleaming and my thighs stained as I faced the blank screen.

Just to make myself wait, I slid my fingers between my legs and moved them slowly, up and down, a couple of times. I opened my lips with my index and ring fingers, and with my middle finger I traced slow circles over my swollen clitoris. God. I’d been wanting this for hours and still had to endure almost a whole hour with that silicone cock buried inside me. How was I going to stand it?

Before sitting down, I crouched in front of the chair and ran my tongue up and down the dildo, coating it thoroughly with saliva, even though I knew it wasn’t necessary—my pussy was dripping enough to make it slide in on its own. I took it into my mouth for a while, all the way to my throat, practicing the blowjob I was going to give it later. I spat onto it, a thick strand sliding down the shaft to the suction cup, and only then did I mount it.

I squatted over it with my legs spread and lowered myself millimeter by millimeter. The tip found the entrance to my pussy and sank in effortlessly, but when it reached the halfway point I had to stop and take a deep breath: it was thick, very thick, and it filled me completely. I finished lowering myself until my ass touched the seat and felt it buried to the hilt, pushing into the place only reached when I’m extremely turned on. At first it felt strange, too deep, too still. After a few minutes, my pussy got used to having it inside, and the sensation shifted from strange to delicious. I arranged my dress over myself to cover what was underneath.

And so, sitting there and completely impaled, I turned on the camera and said “present” with the most innocent smile I could fake.

***

The first few minutes were almost bearable. The professor shared his screen, talked about deadlines and notifications, and I nodded with my head propped on one hand. But every time I shifted, even slightly, the silicone cock stirred inside me and a warm current ran from my pussy to the tips of my fingers. All it took was a deep breath to remind me that I had it buried all the way to my uterus.

In the video-call window I could see the faces of my eight classmates and the professor, all serious, taking notes. None of them had the slightest idea that I had a cock buried halfway into my body, just below the bottom edge of the screen. The certainty of being fucked by a toy in front of so many people without anyone noticing set me on fire.

—Any questions about the last point? —the professor asked.

I had to bite my lip before answering. For a second I imagined what would happen if a moan escaped me, if one of them discovered why my face was so flushed and my cleavage so agitated, and instead of frightening me, the thought made my pussy drip even more around the dildo.

—No, none —I said, and my voice came out a shade lower than usual.

I lowered my gaze toward the keyboard, pretending to take notes, although all I wrote were scattered, meaningless letters. Meanwhile, I pressed my thighs against the sides of the chair, restraining the urge to rise and fall, to ride that cock at last, to come in front of the professor and everyone else.

I stayed motionless for quite a while, fighting the urge to move. My hands were clenched on the desk, my knuckles white, and I could feel my juices running between my buttocks to the suction cup. After half an hour, the stillness had become torture. I desperately needed to ride that cock, to leap onto it, to make it slide in and out forcefully, but there was still time left, and any abrupt movement would show on camera.

So I began rocking myself slightly, forward and back, a minimal swaying that anyone would have mistaken for nervousness or a bad connection. With every little thrust, the cock scraped against the inner wall, the one that makes me see stars when it’s touched properly. It was the only thing I could allow myself without arousing suspicion, and I thought it would be enough to calm the urgency.

I was completely wrong.

As soon as my pussy understood the rhythm, everything got worse. Every sway drove it a little deeper, the tip rubbed exactly where I needed it, and my arousal grew instead of easing. I could feel the hot liquid running over the base of the dildo, across the seat, down my thighs. I dug my nails into my own palm to keep from moaning. My forehead was beaded with sweat, my cheeks burning, my nipples hard as stones against the fabric of my dress, and inside I felt ready to explode without being able to let go.

Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t come. It won’t be long.

I stopped for a second, thinking the pause would help. It did the opposite: the accumulated tension became unbearable, as if my pussy were demanding the cock I had taken away from it. My inner muscles squeezed on their own around the silicone, milking it, and every contraction sent a spasm up my spine. I began rocking again, this time with less control, rising a centimeter and letting myself fall, rising two and letting myself fall. During the final minutes of class, I no longer cared whether the motion showed on the screen. I didn’t register a single word that was said. I was completely focused on holding out, on not coming in front of everyone.

—Well, we’ll leave it there for today. See you next week —the professor said.

I didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. I slammed the video call shut, turned off the camera, and let out everything I had been holding back. The first moan scraped my throat from how long I had suppressed it.

***

At last I could let go. At last I could fuck myself the way I’d needed to since morning.

I tore off my blouse and bra in one pull and went straight for my tits: I squeezed them hard, pinched my nipples until they hurt, tugged them mercilessly as I began really bouncing on the chair. There was nothing left to hide, no one who could hear me. I let myself go out loud, shouting filthy things into the empty air.

—Yes, like that, deeper, you fucking bitch, fuck me, fuck me hard —I said to myself, or to the cock, or to no one, as I rose and fell with my pussy spread wide open.

I lifted myself almost all the way, leaving only the tip inside, then dropped hard, feeling the impact against the bottom of my uterus. The chair creaked beneath me, and over my moans I could hear the wet, obscene sound of my pussy splashing every time I came down. It was splattering. I could feel the liquid flying in droplets against my thighs and the edge of the seat.

I lowered one hand and found my clitoris already swollen, throbbing, slippery. I began rubbing it in quick circles with two fingers while continuing to ride that silicone cock without slowing down. My nipples were so hard they hurt, my skin burning from the waist up, my pussy swallowing the entire cock again and again. Every movement slid in and out without the slightest resistance, and I kept riding it with a roughness I didn’t allow myself on other occasions, without my usual patience, seeking my orgasm like someone searching for air.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming —I repeated out loud, and when it came, it came all at once.

I screamed with everything I had. My pussy clenched into a fist around the dildo, squeezing it so hard it nearly expelled it, and the contractions shook my entire body, wave after wave. I felt the warm gush run down my thighs, soaking the suction cup, dripping onto the floor. I stayed sitting there with the cock inside me, trembling, my head hanging back, while I kept coming in spasms that wouldn’t end. It took me a couple of minutes to catch my breath again, the chair wet and sticky beneath me.

When I finally straightened up and stood, the cock slid out with a sucking sound that made me shudder. I looked at the mess I had left: the dildo gleaming from top to bottom, coated in my thick juices, the seat drenched, a strand still hanging from my pussy to my knee. And instead of feeling ashamed, I felt my body asking for more. I’m greedy, what can I say? I knelt in front of the chair, slowly, my mouth already open, determined not to waste a single drop of what that class had made me feel.

But that part—the part about what happened when I wrapped my lips around that cock covered in me—I’d rather save for another story. I don’t like stories that are too long. If you want to know how I went on sucking myself that afternoon, you already know where to find me.