Chapter 20

Jess and I met Emma about twenty minutes before 10 am the next day. Jess had graduated from the same college that Emma was attending, so she was already well acquainted with it.

Emma was waiting outside the auditorium when we arrived. She was nervously kneading the pages in her hand and pacing.

“Hey guys!” she called over. “Thank you SO much for coming to support me. God, I hate this sort of thing.”

“Everyone does,” Jess said, “Unless you’re a narcissist. That’s why they make it mandatory for virtually every degree program. Just remember that most everyone else here is in the same boat and just as nervous.”

“I know, I know. It still doesn’t help though.” She fidgeted nervously.

“I know it doesn’t. It’ll be good for you though. Alright, let’s go inside and find seats,” Jess said.

It was the first time I’d been in the auditorium. It was surprisingly large and cavernous. The class didn’t start for another twenty minutes, so the auditorium was still nearly empty. Jess let Emma choose the seats and she was disappointed that Emma chose ones all the way at the back to hide in. Well, ‘baby steps’ she supposed. As it happens, it was for the best anyway.

The auditorium started to fill as 10 o’clock closed in, but it was only students from the course, guests of those students (like us), and random other students with absolutely nothing better to do. As such, the vast majority of the auditorium was still empty as class began.

Emma was seated in-between Jess and me; her leg bounced nervously. I slapped my hand down on it to stop it and she jumped a bit.

“I’m sorry, I know this is silly,” she apologized.

“It’s ok,” I said, “Just close your eyes and take deep breaths.”

She did so and almost immediately she did relax visibly.

A minute later, the professor walked in carrying a bowl containing a bunch of paper slips.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said. The class murmured a good morning back to him.

“I know that no one is excited by this, so, in the interest of fairness, all names have been placed in here.” He held up the bowl and shook it. “And will be drawn out at random. Please be ready when your name is called.”

And so it began. The first student stammered through a speech on the Revolutionary War. Or maybe it was French and Indian war. Hell if I know, I really wasn’t listening. It might not have even been a war. Something about fighting, I’m pretty sure. I was actually busy scrolling through Facebook. Jess was on her phone as well, probably doing the same, I imagine.

One after another, each student stood up for the requisite five minutes (no less!) As the class dragged on, Emma saw fewer and fewer slips in the bowl.

She reached over for my hand to hold for support and I gave it to her. She let her arm fall down on the arm rest and her hand lied across my lap. She gave my hand periodic squeezes as a nervous tick and, in doing so, her hand rhythmically rubbed against my crotch. After a couple of minutes of this, I started to get aroused.

Emma started at the feeling of pressure against her hand and looked down at me. It took her a second to realize what had happened.

“Seriously?!” she whispered. “This is turning you on?”

“I’m sorry!” I whispered back. “I can’t control that you know.”

She giggled nervously and released my hand to cup my crotch. The feeling of her hand holding it made my cock jump inside my pants.

Emma looked back up at the student giving the speech without removing her hand. I saw her eyes close and she took deep breaths again; this time, however, she was massaging my crotch in time to each breath. Breathe in, squeeze; Breathe out, release.

She seemed to be calming herself quite well by doing it; I, however, was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. First, my erection was painfully pressing against my pants and two, the thought of being masturbated in the auditorium was both erotic and frightening at the same time.

There was no one in our row, but there were several students sitting directly ahead of us. I noticed my breathing growing louder and strained to control it so as not to arouse suspicion. Emma didn’t make it easy though as her thumb had found the tip of my penis and was rubbing hard against it through the fabric.

I looked over at her and her eyes were still closed, but I could see she was doing a weak job of controlling her smirk. She knew exactly what was happening.

“Emma!” I whispered harshly, “you should stop.” Jess looked up from her phone over at us, puzzled for just a moment before she realized what Emma was doing.