Sometimes after classes Gemma would take a book out to Old Pavilion at the far edge of campus. She could sit on one of the smooth wooden benches and read and listen to the peaceful gurgle of the stream that ran nearby. Sometimes some guys would sit on neighboring benches and try to look up her skirt. One day she decided to be a little naughty; she wore an especially short skirt and no panties. She sat on the sun-warmed bench and enjoyed her book and the sound of the stream and the kiss of the breeze that lifted her skirt and tickled her inner thighs when she lifted her knee a little and spread her legs a little. She could almost feel the guys’ eyes on her sex. It was exciting. She lifted her knee a little more. She spread her legs a little more. She could feel her sex lips thickening, her clitoris swelling. She could feel the wet welling in her cunt. She squeezed herself. And again. And again and again. Abruptly orgasm overwhelmed her. Her body shook with the pleasure of it. There were five or six lovely aftershocks. She took a deep breath, a long, satisfied sigh.

“What’cha readin’?” It was one of the guys, standing at the end of her bench. She couldn’t help but notice he had a sturdy boner beneath his jeans. She looked up at him, and in a sleepy, sexy, not quite sated voice, she said, “Sexual Perversion in the Young Adult Male.”