Sprintime Part I

             Springtime. The flannel sheets come off the bed and the silk replaces it. Windows open to let in the breeze. Curtains open wide to let in the light I've blocked out during the colder months. With these visible changes comes the not so visible shit in my libido.
              
              I once wrote last spring of my sexuality being tied to the spring. This is proving true again this spring too.

              I've always had an active imagination. Now, this is getting ridiculous. I'm wet and ready all the time now. My fingers and clit are sore from my exertions. Even now I wish my hands were buried between my thighs, even though I am surrounded by my classmates, most of whom I used to go to church with. The thought of masturbating, here, in the middle of the classroom, has me growing hotter, wetter, even though it must be sixty degrees in here.

              Kili, the cute little red-head in the seat to my right, has her legs parted, feet resting on the grate below the next desk. She's wearing a short skirt, another thing I love about spring, that has ridden up a few extra inches, her pale, freckled thighs bared to my eyes. My eyes move up to the juncture between those long, shapely legs, wondering. Wondering what she has hidden between those thighs of hers. Is she shaved? What kind of underwear is she wearing? Is she wearing underwear at all? What does she look like? Is she pink? Or is she darker? Are her lips small? Or are they bigger, like mine? What does she taste like?
            
             Somehow, with all this questions circling through my mind, my gaze drifted up to the side of her neck. She has a tattoo there. A flower. A tiger-lily I think. The petals curve around her neck, teasing, leading my eyes to her short hair; her short, flame-red hair gently caressing her neck. Making me want to lick her just before I sink my teeth into her neck. What would she do? Would she moan or whimper? Would she beg for more? Or would she take control? Would she turn my head and sink her teeth and nails into me? Would she make me moan? Whimper? Beg? Or would she just turn and smack me when I first breathed upon her neck, preparing to nibble on her.