School Masturbation Policy - Follow-Up #1: Female Masturbation

Ever since all of my male classmates became accidental exhibitionists by school decree, there's been a major misconception about our school's policies making rounds in education circles nationwide. The school has received numerous letters - some polite, some downright nasty - complaining about the lack of equality in the new public decency rules. "Women need sexual relief just as often as men!" they proclaim. "Teenage boys shouldn't get special treatment just because they like to gripe about the pain of 'blue balls,'" another decries. What all of these so-called "social activists" seem to be missing is that us girls get to play with ourselves in class just as often as our male counterparts! Sure, we may not all be sitting on the teacher's desk, naked from the waist down and pumping our hips into the air for the entire class's entertainment. But I for one am definitely having at least four orgasms in school per weekday, and I'm loving every second of it. See, when this whole thing started (back in "phase one" of the policy as it's now known), everyone - dude or dudette - was supposed to maintain a certain level of privacy by pleasuring his/herself discreetly under their desks. The only reason the district progressed to phases two and three was a certain now infamous incident in which a horny junior was so desperate to cum that he pumped his entire load out onto his desk. As a result, the "public decency" rules were relaxed so that male students' orgasms could be better monitored and all messes could be prevented (or at least cleaned up as soon as possible). The only "mess" I can make when I finger myself in class is a small puddle of juices between my thighs, and that can be handled with a quick swipe of a tissue at the end of the period. Now, I guess I should give some details on how we girls relieve ourselves. Early on - back when phase one was implemented - we were definitely a lot more cautious than the guys. If you wore jeans, you'd discreetly unbutton them and then carefully slide your hand into your panties, being careful not to attract looks with sudden gasps once your fingers made contact with your clit. If you were like me and tend to wear tight skirts and leggings, you had to deal with even more confined layers to give yourself a good rub. It would generally take an entire class period to finish myself off back then, and once I rode out my climax - legs squeezed tight together against my hand, gasping for breath as the entire classroom stopped to watch for a few seconds - there was the matter of the remaining liquid in my panties. Still a bit more embarrassed and reserved at the time, I would generally ask to visit the ladies' restroom to clean myself up. Though monitors were already in place to prevent "extended visits" to the facilities, they allowed a quick stop in to wipe up the juices inevitably coating our groins. On nearly every trip to the facilities back then, there were at least two young ladies sitting on the toilets*, lower garments around their ankles and legs spread as they scrubbed their glistening thighs with a damp paper towel, gasping a bit with every accidental brush of their clits. (*The stalls had been removed from all restrooms outside of the cafeteria, to better monitor students' bathroom habits) These prudish "sensibilities" all but vanished once the guys started jacking off at the front of the room. Now that the boys were putting on such public displays, us gals figured there wasn't much use hiding what came natural to us, even if we were still obscured a bit by our desks. Women's underwear is essentially a relic of the "before times" in our school, for better access to our aching nether regions. In fact, you're unlikely to find a single girl whose vulva isn't totally exposed throughout most of the class period. Ladies who prefer pants keep their jeans around their ankles, casually massaging their outer lips as they enjoy the moans of their male counterparts at the front of the room. My tight skirts spend most of the day scrunched up into a thin ring around my hips, leaving me almost naked from the waist down as I explore my vaginal walls with two fingers, leaving my thumb free to play the clitar. When we orgasm, there's no longer any feeble attempt to contain our pleasure. We're gasping and moaning loudly and proudly, our legs splayed out from our desks and our toes curling in our shoes. And when it's time to clean up, we simply stand up and bend over to wipe up that little puddle from our chairs, often taking our time to give the guys sitting next to us a good show of our bare asses and pussies. The boy who sits next to me in Biology even likes to insert a finger or two into my defenseless slit from time to time, and I often have to be reminded to return to my seat after about a minute of riding his digits toward a second orgasm. Some days I'll even "forget" to return my skirt to its proper length after a period-long diddle session, and I'll spend the subsequent walk to my next class getting my bare ass and pussy massaged and teased by any guy or girl who happens to pass close enough in the hall. On one occasion, a very attractive football player escorted me all the way across the building, two fingers inside me for the entire trip. I arrived at my calculus class gasping for air and a friend who had been enjoying the view from behind informed me that I had left a trail of juices leading all the way back to the chemistry lab. Another favorite school activity these days is the group project or group discussion. While these activities used to involve the tedious rearrangement of desks to form communal tables, the process is accelerated by the newfound popularity of girls sitting on their male group members' laps. Though sexual penetration is still very much forbidden on school grounds, there's nothing in the masturbation policy saying a girl can't share a seat with a horny guy friend, his thick cock standing erect against her bare pussy and stomach. Of course, it also provides the added bonus of mutual relief, as the girl grinds her thighs against the throbbing flesh pole pressed against her. Needless to say, when you put a group together consisting of two guys and two girls, the finished paper is likely to reach the teacher's desk glazed with semen. That's not to say that us girls don't enjoy each others' company as much as we do the guys. We just like to save those activities for gym class, when we take advantage of the locker room's relative privacy as much as the shyer boys do theirs. It's a wonder we even manage to get fully dressed by the time the coach orders us into the gymnasium. ;) I've also received quite a few questions about how successful the policy is on keeping students attentive during class lectures. While the lack of long bathroom breaks is an obvious plus of the program, skeptics often point out that the spectacle of five young men masturbating at the front of the room is more likely to distract us from our teachers than to raise our grades. That's where the use of the policy as a teaching aid comes in. Sure, when a teacher needs to drone on for an hour on a boring topic, we're sure to focus more on the throbbing dicks than the literary analysis or history lesson. So what better way to get us interested in the lecture than to have these horny guys read aloud while they pump away? I for one am far more receptive to information when it's relayed through a half-naked teenage boy who pauses to gasp and moan every few sentences. Though I have to admit my notes are often similarly interrupted. I'll go from information on the eruption of Mount Vesuvius to a notation that Stephen Davis's 7-incher erupted all over his bare chest. I've even started recording the audio from my classes to my phone as a study aid. On a night before a big test, I'll lie in bed with my headphones in, reviewing the bones of the human skeletal system while thrusting my pelvis against my fingers under the sheets every time Daniel James mumbles "oh fffuck..." under his breath. I'd just like to finish my account by addressing those misinformed "social activists" I talked about earlier. Just last week, the school district invited a small group of students from a private school in the city to experience our policies first hand after they had expressed complaints about the supposed gender inequality. My biology class was used as a model during their tour, and for the special occasion my female classmates and I were asked to sit on top of our desks for the period to better display how we were benefiting from the program just as much as our male counterparts. I think our point was made loud and clear when those four "liberated" young women witnessed one female senior, front and center atop her desk, skirt nothing but a thin strip of cloth above her bare pussy and t-shirt scrunched up beneath her arm pits to completely expose her bouncing c-cup tits. One hand was kneading her left breast, index finger teasing the swollen pink nipple in the center, the other hand spreading her engorged pussy with two fingers, a third furiously rubbing the throbbing bud emerging just above the vagina. If they weren't convinced then, they certainly were when I had the hottest, wettest orgasm in my high school career and was immediately met with cheers and applause.