It was a late autumn night. The sycamore leaves on campus had already begun to turn yellow, and the wind carried a slight chill as it blew. My girlfriend and I walked hand in hand, slowly along the tree-lined path leading to the dormitory area. The streetlights stretched her shadow long and illuminated the outfit she had specially worn today with particular clarity.
Today she was wearing a light-colored miniskirt, the hem reaching just to the middle of her thighs. Below that was a pair of black fishnet stockings, the kind that go just below the knee, with mesh not too big or small, just enough to show a hint of her skin's fairness. Pointed-toe little leather shoes made light tapping sounds on the stone pavement. From the first time I saw her, I thought her legs were especially nice-looking, slender and with smooth lines. Today's outfit made those legs look like works of art.
We met as freshmen and have been dating for almost a year and a half now. The first time we had sex was in my dorm room. That day, my roommates happened to be out, the curtains were drawn tight, the bed frame creaked a bit, and we were both incredibly nervous but also incredibly excited. After that, almost every time was still in bed, either when her dorm room was empty or when mine was. We never tried anywhere else.
That night as we walked, my gaze kept drifting downward involuntarily. Her short skirt swayed gently with her steps, the muscles of her calves encased in fishnet stockings faintly visible under the light. A thought suddenly popped into my head, so intense it made my throat tighten.
I leaned close to her ear and whispered in a low voice: 'Wearing this today... really turns me on. I can hardly stand it, I want to do it with you...'
Her footsteps paused for a moment, and she turned to look at me, her cheeks already slightly flushed under the light. 'Don't be like that! We're at school now, and there are people in the dormitory. Where can we do it!'
Her voice carried a hint of embarrassment and annoyance, also a touch of helplessness. I knew she wasn't completely without feeling, just instinctively resistant to doing it in a non-bed setting for the first time.
I held her hand, stopped under a big tree, and looked at her seriously: "Let's try the bathroom. The newly built lab building at school, I heard the bathrooms are very clean, and there aren't many people at night. If it's really not clean, we'll leave immediately, no pressure."
Biting her lip, her eyes scanned around to confirm no one was nearby, then she whispered, 'The restroom... won't someone discover us? And a place like the restroom always feels... a bit strange.'
I continued to coax and wheedle, lowering my voice even more, almost whispering into her ear: 'Just try it once. If anything feels off, we'll stop immediately. I promise. And... seeing you dressed like this today, I'm already so hard I can't stand it.'
She was silent for about ten seconds, finally sighed, and whispered: '...Then let's go take a look. If it's really dirty, or if there are people, we leave immediately.'
A wave of wild joy surged in my heart. I took her hand, avoiding the main road, and walked toward the direction of the laboratory building. That building had just been put into use not long ago; at night it was brightly lit but sparsely populated, most labs locked. We circled to the side and found the women's restroom on the first floor.
As agreed beforehand, she went in first. I stood not far outside the door, pretending to look at my phone, but my heart was pounding. After about two minutes, her phone vibrated with a text message: 'No one inside, it's clean. Come in, and be quick.'
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Once the door closed, the sound of the wind outside was immediately cut off. The restroom was brightly lit, the floor so clean it almost reflected one's shadow. The stalls were all Western-style toilets, with instructions posted on the walls. Next to the toilet seat was a stack of seat covers, and the hooks were brand new. The air held only a faint smell of disinfectant, none of the unpleasant odors I had imagined.
She was already standing at the door of the innermost stall. Seeing me come in, she immediately pulled me inside, turned and locked the door. The latch made a crisp 'click' sound.
The cubicle wasn't very large, but it was enough for two people to stand. As soon as I steadied myself, I pulled her into my arms and pressed my lips directly onto hers. She let out a soft gasp, which was immediately swallowed by me. My tongue forcefully pried open her teeth, entwining with her soft tongue and stirring vigorously. Her breathing quickly became erratic, and her hands instinctively grabbed the hem of my clothes.
While deep kissing, I reached my hand into her top, kneading her breasts over her bra. Her breasts weren't large but had a nice shape, and her nipples were already slightly erect. I rubbed back and forth over the fabric with my thumb, feeling her body tremble lightly.
After kissing for about a minute or two, I pulled back a little, breathing heavily as I lifted her top. She cooperated by raising her arms, letting me take off her clothes piece by piece, until only that black demi-cup bra was left. A little soft flesh bulged at the bra's edges, making her skin look even fairer.
I lowered my head and gently bit her collarbone, my hand already moving down into her short skirt. Through her thin panties, I felt she was already somewhat wet. My fingertip pressed against her clitoris through the fabric, slowly circling.
She immediately let out a suppressed 'Mmm...', her body leaning into my embrace. I sped up a little, feeling that little spot gradually swell up, like a small bean. Her breathing became more and more rapid, occasionally leaking out fragmented 'Hngh... ah...' sounds.
I put down the toilet seat lid, placed a seat cover, and had her sit back against the tank. Her short skirt was pushed up to her waist, black fishnet stockings and pointed-toe shoes still perfectly intact on her legs. She sat there, legs slightly apart, her panties already showing a small wet patch.
I knelt down, slowly pulled her panties down to her ankles, then slipped them out of her shoes. Her skirt, fishnet stockings, and pointed shoes were still on. I started by licking from the inside of her thighs with my tongue, moving upward, past the edge of the fishnets, and finally landing between her legs.
Her private parts were already glistening wet. I first lightly touched her clitoris with the tip of my tongue. Her whole body shuddered, letting out a short 'Ah...'. I didn't rush to go deeper. Instead, I used my tongue to slide back and forth on the outer labia, occasionally licking around her anus, feeling her body tense and relax.
“Don’t... there...” she protested softly, but didn’t really push me away.
I intensified my efforts, sticking my tongue into her vaginal opening, gently stirring it, then pulling out to focus on attacking her clitoris. After a few rounds, her moans noticeably grew louder: 'Hiss... so... so good... ah...'
I looked up, seeing her slightly flushed cheeks, and asked, 'Do you want to continue? If you want it, beg me. If not, we'll leave now.'
Biting her lower lip, her eyes slightly moist, she nodded, her voice so faint it was almost inaudible: 'Yes... I want to feel good... Let me feel good again, okay... Please... I want... I want to have sex... I want to climax...'
At that moment, her expression was both shy and anxious, making my lower body ache with hardness. I lowered my head again, this time licking her clitoris more forcefully, my tongue quickly moving side to side, occasionally sucking with my lips. Her hands gripped the edges of the toilet tank, her waist involuntarily arching upwards to meet me.
The lewd fluid flowed more and more, running down the perineum to the anus, then dripping onto the toilet seat. I licked all that liquid with my tongue and found it had almost no odor, just a faint fishy sweetness. Her cries grew more urgent: 'Ah ah... quick... I'm about to climax... hiss... so good... don't... don't stop...'
At that moment, the door to the women's restroom was suddenly pushed open.
We both froze at the same time. Outside came the sound of high-heeled footsteps, then the sound of a stall door being pulled open and closed again, the lock clicking shut. Followed by the sound of a zipper, fabric rustling, and finally the clear sound of urination, the water hitting the squat toilet.
My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my throat. My girlfriend's eyes were wide open, her mouth tightly shut, afraid to make a single sound. But I felt myself getting even harder. This thrill of possibly being discovered at any moment made my lower body ache with swelling.
I didn't stop. Instead, I attacked her clitoris more forcefully with my tongue, while slowly inserting two fingers into her already soaked pussy, curving them to press against the inner walls.
She immediately scolded me in a voice almost inaudible: 'Don't... like this... there are people outside... ah...'
But the body honestly clenched around my fingers. I quickened the thrusting of my fingers, and my tongue did not stop either. She bit the back of her own hand, yet still let out fragmented “oh... ah ah... almost... I’m about to cum...”
The person outside finished flushing, washed their hands, used the hand dryer—the whole process lasted about two or three minutes. Finally, footsteps faded away, and the main door closed again.
I looked up and whispered, 'No one's here anymore. You can call out.'
As if completely unleashed by these words, her voice suddenly grew louder: 'Ahhh... I'm climaxing... climaxing...'
Her little hole contracted violently, gushing out a large amount of fluid, pouring onto my fingers and tongue. Her legs trembled incessantly inside the fishnet stockings, the heels of her pointed shoes lightly tapping the floor a few times.
I waited for her to calm down a bit before standing up and quickly taking off my pants and underwear. My already hard-to-the-limit sex organ sprang out, with clear liquid seeping from the tip. Holding it, I first gently rubbed the swollen clitoris a few times with the glans.
She immediately shook her head: 'Put it in... don't keep teasing... please...'
I aimed at the moist entrance and slowly pushed in. Just the head going in, I felt it was hot and tight inside, tightly wrapping around me. I continued inward until the entire length was buried. She let out a long, satisfied sigh.
When the thrusting began, the rhythm wasn't fast. Each stroke nearly withdrew completely before plunging back in fully, letting her clearly feel every inch of friction. The short skirt was bunched at her waist, her black fishnet stockings lightly rubbing against my thighs with the movement of her legs. Her pointed-toe shoes were still on, occasionally accidentally kicking my calves.
I lowered my head to look at where we were joined, watching my own member plunge in and out repeatedly, bringing out more fluid. Her cries were no longer suppressed: 'Ah... so deep... faster... ah ah...'
I quickened my pace, holding her waist with both hands, guiding her to meet my movements. The water tank gently knocked against the wall, emitting a rhythmic, muffled sound. Her breasts swayed up and down with the motion, the black bra slightly displaced, revealing half of her areola.
After thrusting for about ten minutes, her breathing suddenly became more rapid, and her pussy began to contract in waves. I knew she was close again, but I deliberately slowed down, almost stopping, just grinding shallowly inside.
“Do you still want it?” I asked into her ear, “If you want it, say it again.”
Her eyes were red, her hands wrapped around my neck, her voice choked with tears: 'I want... to keep going... please... make me climax... don't stop...'
Only then did I resume thrusting forcefully. This time, I held nothing back, driving deep with every stroke. She soon reached her second climax, her passage convulsing violently, gripping me so tightly I could barely move. I gritted my teeth and persisted for several dozen thrusts before groaning and releasing inside her.
After finishing, we didn't move immediately. She leaned against the water tank panting, I lay on top of her, feeling myself still inside her, pulsing slowly.
After a long while, I slowly withdrew. The mixed fluids flowed down from between her legs, dripping along the fishnet stockings. I took a tissue from my pocket, carefully wiped her clean, then put her panties back on and straightened her skirt.
She looked at me, her eyes both shy and soft: 'Next time... next time you're not allowed to suddenly...'
I smiled and kissed her forehead: 'Next time if you still dress like this, I might not be able to help myself again.'
We straightened our clothes, confirmed there was no sound outside, and then cautiously opened the door to leave. The hallway was empty, only a distant light was still on.
On the way back to the dormitory, she kept her head down, occasionally looking up at me, her cheeks still flushed. I held her hand, feeling her fingers tremble slightly, but she didn't pull away.
After that night, we occasionally still brought up that experience in the bathroom. She would pretend to be angry and punch me, saying 'You're really bad,' but her eyes held a smile. And every time I saw her wearing a short skirt with fishnet stockings again, my mind would automatically conjure up the image of her on the toilet lid, in front of the water tank, biting the back of her hand but unable to hold back her moans.
The campus was large, and clean restrooms weren't limited to that one. Later, we tried a few different places, but the tension, excitement, and heart-pounding fear of almost being discovered from the first time remained the most unforgettable.
Sometimes lying in bed late at night, she would suddenly turn over and ask softly, 'That day... did you plan it from the start?'
I answered honestly: 'Not fully planned. I just saw you dressed like that and suddenly really wanted... to have you somewhere else, just once.'
She was silent for a moment, then buried her face in my chest, saying muffledly: '...Next time, tell me in advance. At least let me prepare mentally.'
I smiled and agreed, but in my heart, I knew that next time if I saw her walking around campus in the same short skirt and black fishnet stockings, I probably still wouldn’t be able to resist pulling her into some quiet corner.
And she would probably, like that day, half-heartedly follow me inside.
That night, after returning to the dormitory, my roommates were already asleep. I washed up quietly, but lying in bed, I couldn't fall asleep. My mind kept replaying every detail from the women's restroom stall: her sitting on the toilet lid, her legs in black fishnets trembling slightly, the way her juices dripped down through the mesh, and how she bit the back of her hand but still let out faint moans when someone was outside.
The phone suddenly vibrated once. It was a message from her.
“Are you still awake?”
I immediately replied: 'Awake. Thinking of you.'
After about half a minute, she sent another: '...Was it too crazy today? What if we were really discovered...'
I stared at the screen, typing slowly: 'But you clamp down really tight when you climax. And you said 'want it' yourself.'
There was a long silence on the other end before a reply came: '...Shut up. See you at the cafeteria tomorrow at noon.'
I smiled and put down my phone, but I couldn’t suppress the restlessness in my heart. My lower body hardened again. I closed my eyes, recalling the glimpse of white between her thighs when she walked in a short skirt and black fishnet stockings today, recalling the already soaked entrance after I pulled down her panties, recalling the satisfied sigh she let out when the tip of my penis first pushed inside... In the end, I had to take care of it myself once before I could barely fall asleep.
The next day at noon, the cafeteria was bustling with people. She was already sitting by the window, today wearing a dark blue skirt, but still those black fishnet stockings on her legs. Only this time the stockings were pulled up even higher, almost to the root of her thighs. Seeing me approach, she looked up, a bit of guilt in her eyes, also a bit of indescribable anticipation.
I sat down, deliberately lowering my voice: 'Wearing fishnets again today?'
She poked at the greens on the plate with her chopsticks, the tips of her ears quietly turning red: '...Just wore whatever. Don't overthink it.'
I stretched my foot under the table and gently touched her calf, feeling the thin fabric through the fishnet stockings. 'I thought about it for a long time last night. I want to do it again.'
Her chopsticks paused. She looked up and quickly scanned the surroundings, confirming no one was paying attention, then whispered: "Are you crazy? There are so many people in the cafeteria..."
“Not now.” I kept lightly brushing her calf with my foot. “Tonight. There are a few bathrooms over by the experimental building that hardly anyone goes to. Or... the rooftop. You choose.”
Biting her lip, she remained silent for over ten seconds, finally saying in an almost inaudible voice: '...Let's eat first. We'll talk tonight.'
She barely touched her chopsticks during that meal. I knew she was struggling internally, and I also knew she hadn't truly refused.
At 7:30 p.m., we met at the corner on the side of the lab building. Today, she had deliberately changed into a loose jacket, covering her skirt and fishnet stockings completely. Seeing me, she first looked around, then said in a low voice, 'Are we really going? If we get caught...'
I grabbed her hand and led her into the building: "Just try once. Like yesterday, if it's not clean or someone's there, we leave immediately."
This time we chose the women's restroom at the very end of the third floor. The entire floor was almost pitch dark, with only the green glow of the emergency exit sign illuminating the space. She went in first to check and soon sent a text: "Clear. Come in."
As soon as the door closed, the air in the compartment instantly became thick. I locked the door, pressed her against the door panel, and kissed her deeply. I quickly took off her coat; underneath, she was still wearing that dark blue half-length skirt. This time, the black fishnet stockings were pulled up to the top of her thighs, the edges digging into a bit of soft flesh.
I didn't take it slow like yesterday. My hand directly lifted her skirt, rubbing her already somewhat moist private parts hard over her panties. She let out a suppressed whimper, her hands grabbing my shoulders.
“Already wet?” I asked softly, pressing the clitoris through the fabric with my finger.
She buried her face in the crook of my neck, her voice muffled: '...It's all your fault for saying those things all afternoon.'
I pulled her panties down to her knees, had her turn around, and place her hands on the toilet tank. Her skirt was pushed up to her waist, the black fishnet stockings remained intact, and her pointed shoes were still on the floor. I pressed against her from behind, my already erect member pressing against the seam of her buttocks through my pants.
"Today, from behind." I said into her ear, while unfastening my pants, letting my hot cock spring free and pressing it directly against her wet entrance.
She trembled slightly but did not refuse. I guided myself, slowly pushing in. This time she accepted more easily than yesterday, inside warm and soft, soon taking me in completely.
I started thrusting slowly, my hands moving from her waist to the front, kneading her breasts over her clothes. Her breathing became increasingly erratic, occasionally letting out fragmented 'ah... mmm...' sounds. I sped up, each time almost pulling out completely before thrusting back in hard, my scrotum slapping against her buttocks, making soft sounds.
"Gentler... it'll make noise..." She turned back and warned me with her eyes, but her pussy was honestly contracting.
I deliberately thrust deeper, lowering my head to bite her nape: 'Squeezing so tight, do you want me to go harder?'
She shook her head, but pushed her waist toward me. I reached around to the front, found her swollen clitoris, and while thrusting, quickly rubbed it. Her legs immediately went weak, almost unable to stand, forcing her to brace herself more firmly against the toilet tank.
After thrusting for about ten minutes, she suddenly tensed her body, and her pussy convulsed violently. I knew she had climaxed, but I didn't stop, continuing to thrust forcefully, prolonging her orgasm. She bit her own arm, yet still let out an uncontrollable moan.
After she calmed down a bit, I pulled out and had her turn around to sit on the toilet lid. I squatted down, spread her legs apart, and the sight of the fishnet stockings digging into her thighs made my mouth dry. I lowered my head and used my tongue to lick away the remaining fluid at her entrance, then took her clitoris into my mouth and sucked hard.
She immediately grabbed my hair tightly, her waist arching up to meet me: 'Don't... I just came... too sensitive... ah...'
I paid no heed, my tongue flicking rapidly left and right, occasionally grazing lightly with my teeth. She was soon pushed towards a second climax, her fluids gushing out, dripping down my chin.
I stood up, holding my penis and inserting it back inside. This time, face to face, I could clearly see her flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. I gripped her waist with both hands, pulling her forcefully toward me, each thrust reaching the deepest point.
“Scream it out.” I ordered in a low voice, “It’s more soundproof here than yesterday.”
She shook her head, but couldn't help making increasingly loud sounds: 'Ah... so deep... faster... ah ah...'
I quickened my pace, the sound of the scrotum slapping mingling with the water sounds. Her breasts swayed within her clothes, her fishnet-stocking-clad legs wrapping around my waist. At the most intense moment of thrusting, she suddenly held me tight, her insides contracting wildly, the third climax arriving urgently and fiercely.
Gritting my teeth, I held on for a few dozen more thrusts before groaning and ejaculating inside her. Streams of semen hit her inner walls, and she trembled lightly as she took it.
After finishing, we didn't move immediately. She leaned on my shoulder panting, I was still inside her, feeling the aftershock contractions. After a good while, I slowly pulled out and carefully cleaned her up with a tissue.
She looked at me, her eyes soft and shy: '...You're really getting more and more excessive.'
I smiled and kissed her lips: 'But you always say you want it.'
After straightening our clothes, we quietly left the restroom. The hallway was still empty. As we walked down the stairs, she suddenly grabbed my hand and whispered, 'Next time... could we not do it in the restroom? I want... to change locations.'
I stopped walking and looked at her: 'Where do you want to go?'
She kept her head down, her voice as thin as a mosquito's: "...The rooftop. Or an empty classroom. Just... don't be so nervous every time."
My heart stirred. I pulled her into my arms: 'Okay. Next time I'll listen to you.'
But I know clearly that no matter where we changed to, as long as she was still wearing that short skirt and those black fishnet stockings, I would probably still be unable to resist pinning her against the wall in any quiet corner, lifting her skirt, and entering her soaked body again and again, from behind or from the front.
And she, just like today, would always say 'too much' with her mouth, yet her body would honestly comply.
Over the next few weeks, we tried a few different places again.
Once it was in an empty classroom at 10 PM. The curtains were drawn tightly shut. She sat on the podium, legs spread apart, still wearing black fishnet stockings. I knelt between her legs, using my tongue to bring her to climax twice before guiding my penis inside. She supported herself with her hands behind her, her short skirt bunched at her waist, letting out soft moans each time she was thrust deep. The classroom echoed with the sound of flesh colliding and her suppressed moans, stimulating me so much I almost wanted to cum immediately.
Another time was in a hidden corner on the top floor of the library. Almost no one was there, the bookshelves blocking us completely. She leaned back against a bookshelf, one leg lifted by me, her net-stocking-clad calf resting on my arm. I entered her from the side, one hand covering her mouth, the other rubbing her clitoris. Her eyes were moist, and she would tremble slightly each time I hit a sensitive spot. After finishing, we hurriedly straightened our clothes. Her panties were too wet to wear again, so I had to stuff them into my pocket and take them away.
Each time after it ended, she would pretend to be angry and hit me a few times, saying 'Don't do this again next time,' but the next time I brought it up, she would always hesitate for a moment, then nod.
I began to realize that she was actually just as addicted to this thrill of possibly being discovered at any moment as I was. She was just shyer and needed me to push her step by step.
One Friday night, she suddenly messaged me: 'No one's in the dorm. Come over.'
When I arrived, she was already wearing only that black demi-cup bra and those black fishnet stockings, with her short skirt discarded by the bed. Seeing me enter, she dimmed the lights until only a small bedside lamp remained, then climbed onto the bed, slightly parting her legs.
"Today... I want it on the bed." Her voice was very small, "but... I want to do it wearing fishnets."
My throat tightened. I quickly took off my clothes and climbed onto the bed. She was unusually proactive today, straddling me herself, guiding my erection and slowly lowering herself onto it. The fishnet stockings rubbed against my thighs, that subtle scraping sensation making my scalp tingle. She moved up and down on her own, hands braced on my chest, her short hair swaying gently with the motion.
I held her waist to help, thrusting upward each time. She soon cried out, no longer holding back: "Ah... so good... deeper..."
Later, she got tired, so I flipped over and pinned her beneath me, entering from behind. She was on her knees with her chest down, her hips wrapped in black fishnet stockings held in my hands, and every impact sent faint ripples through her flesh. I reached around to rub her clitoris, and she climaxed very quickly, with her pussy clenching so hard that I almost came inside her.
That night, we did it three times. By the last time, she couldn't even make a sound, only gasping with her mouth open, her eyes dazedly staring at the ceiling. After I came inside her, she softly said: '...hold me while I sleep.'
I hugged her from behind, my hand still resting on her thigh wrapped in fishnet stockings. She had already fallen asleep, breathing evenly, but her opening still held our mixed fluids, slowly leaking out.
I stared at the ceiling, suddenly feeling somewhat unreal. From the first time being cautious in the dormitory to later daring to do it in the women's restroom, empty classrooms, and library corners, she had transformed from the girl who would blush and say 'don't do this' into someone who would actively message me to come over and even deliberately wear fishnet stockings to wait for me.
But I know clearly that no matter how many times we did it, that first scene in that clean women’s restroom, when someone suddenly came in outside and she bit her hand while still letting out a moan, will always be the image that excites me the most.
Later, one night, we passed that laboratory building again. She suddenly stopped, looked toward the women’s restroom entrance on the side, and said quietly: “...Want to go once more?”
I turned to look at her. Today she wore that light-colored mini skirt again and black fishnet stockings pulled up just below her knees, her pointed shoes tapping the ground, her legs glaringly white under the streetlight.
I grabbed her hand, my voice a bit hoarse: "Now?"
She nodded, her ears already red: "...just once. Like the first time."
I didn't ask a second time, directly taking her into that building.
This time we chose the exact same cubicle as the first time. After locking the door, she proactively lifted her skirt and pulled her panties to the side herself. I embraced her from behind, my erection already painfully hard, and pushed straight in.
She let out a satisfied sigh, braced her hands on the water tank, and actively pushed back to meet me. I thrust hard, one hand kneading her breast, the other pressing on her clit. Her moans were much louder than the first time, and she no longer feared being discovered: 'Ah... so good... faster... ah ah...'
Halfway through, someone really came in again from outside. Footsteps, the sound of a door opening, the latch, and then the clear sound of water.
We both froze at the same time. But this time, she didn't ask me to stop. Instead, she gently twisted her waist herself and whispered, '...Keep going. Gently.'
Gritting my teeth, I used the slowest pace for shallow thrusts while gently rubbing her clitoris with my fingers. She bit her lower lip but still let out faint, broken whimpers. The person outside seemed completely unaware, flushing the toilet and leaving.
As soon as the door closed, I immediately resumed thrusting hard, pushing her whole body forward. She climaxed quickly, her pussy contracting wildly, squeezing me until I came directly.
After it ended, she turned around, hugged me, buried her face in my chest, her voice soft and hoarse: '...What have you turned me into?'
I lowered my head and kissed the top of her hair, answering honestly: 'Become someone who actively says 'keep going'.'
She lightly punched me but didn't argue.
When we walked out of the restroom, the wind on campus already carried the chill of early winter. She tugged at her short skirt; her legs, wrapped in fishnet stockings, still looked beautiful under the streetlight. I held her hand and suddenly understood a little: so-called campus romance is probably about hiding, in corners that seem ordinary during the day, the heart-racing madness that only the two of us know, time and time again.
And as long as she was willing to walk beside me in a short skirt and black fishnet stockings, I probably would never be truly satisfied with only having her in bed.
She turned her head to look at me, a hint of amusement and indulgence in her gaze: 'What are you looking at?'
I answered truthfully: 'Thinking about where to pin you down next time.'
Her ears turned red again, but she didn't let go of my hand, just softly replied: "...Whatever you want."
The night was deep, the campus quiet. Our shadows were stretched long by the streetlights, overlapping, like two people who simply couldn't be separated.
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