Jon stood in the empty hallway for a moment, his spent cock softening in his fist while thick ropes of cum cooled on the tiled floor between his sneakers. He tucked himself away, zipped up, and wiped his sticky palm on the inside of his jeans pocket. The late bell had already rung, but nobody hurried past him with judgmental stares. A couple of sophomore girls strolled by, chatting about weekend plans, and one of them casually sidestepped the puddle he had left with barely a glance at it. Jon's heart hammered with disbelief and exhilaration. The wish had worked better than he hoped.
He grabbed his backpack and jogged toward his first-period classroom, English with Ms. Harper. The door was already closed when he reached it, but he pushed it open and slipped inside. Twenty-five heads turned briefly toward him, then returned to their notebooks or phones. Ms. Harper stood at the whiteboard, writing out today's discussion questions about The Great Gatsby. She wore a crisp white blouse, a fitted black pencil skirt that ended just below her knees, and a pair of glossy red patent leather pumps with four-inch heels. The shoes caught the fluorescent light every time she shifted her weight, and Jon felt his cock twitch again almost instantly.
He made his way to his usual seat in the back row, trying not to stare too openly, but the moment he sat down the temptation became unbearable. Ms. Harper's heels clicked softly as she paced in front of the class, explaining symbolism in Fitzgerald's parties. Each click sent a jolt straight to Jon's groin. He shifted in his chair, spreading his legs slightly under the desk, and moved his head to the side a bit where he could see her feet clearly. The red leather hugged her arches perfectly, the pointed toes gleaming, and he imagined the warmth inside them after she had worn them all morning.
His erection returned quickly, pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. Around him, classmates scribbled notes or scrolled on their phones under their desks. Nobody seemed to notice the way Jon's breathing grew heavier or the way his right hand drifted down to his lap. He unzipped quietly, the sound masked by Ms. Harper's voice as she asked the class about Daisy's green light. Jon freed his hardening cock under the desk and wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly while his eyes stayed locked on those red pumps.
Ms. Harper turned to write something else on the board, and the way she stood with most of her weight on one leg, flexing the other so the heel lifted slightly, made Jon's strokes quicken. A drop of precum beaded at his tip and smeared over his palm, making each glide smoother. He bit his lip to stay quiet, but soft wet sounds came from under his desk as he pumped faster. A girl named Ashley sat beside him, taking diligent notes. She glanced over once, saw exactly what he was doing, and simply gave a tiny shrug before returning to her page. No surprised gasp. No whisper to a friend. Nothing.
Up front, Ms. Harper called on a student to read a passage aloud. While the boy read, she leaned against her desk, crossing one ankle over the other. The movement made the red leather crease deliciously around her toes, and Jon's hips lifted slightly off his seat as he jerked himself harder. His balls tightened, and he felt the familiar pressure building fast. He stared without shame now, imagining kneeling in front of her, pressing his face to those shiny pumps, inhaling the faint scent of leather and her skin.
The boy finished reading, and Ms. Harper straightened, walking back toward the board. Her heels clicked again, sharp and rhythmic, and that sound alone pushed Jon over the edge. His cock throbbed in his fist, and thick spurts of cum shot out, splattering the underside of his desk and dripping down onto the floor beneath his chair. He milked himself through the orgasm, eyes never leaving her shoes, until the last pulse ebbed and he slumped back, breathing hard.
Ms. Harper turned around just as he finished. Her gaze swept the room, pausing on Jon for a second. She noticed the flushed look on his face and the unmistakable motion of his arm slowing to a stop under the desk, but her expression remained neutral. "Jon," she said calmly, "since you're so engaged this morning, why don't you tell us what you think Gatsby's parties represent in terms of the American Dream?"
A few students chuckled softly at the timing, but nobody pointed or stared. Jon tucked himself away with one hand, wiped the excess cum on his jeans again, and cleared his throat. "Uh, they're like this hollow illusion," he managed, voice still husky. "Everyone's chasing something shiny and expensive, but it's all empty inside."
Ms. Harper nodded approvingly. "Good insight. Keep building on that." She clicked her heels once more as she moved to the next topic, and Jon felt a fresh stir in his spent cock at the sound.
The rest of the period passed in a haze of similar indulgence. Whenever Ms. Harper moved, Jon's eyes followed her feet, and twice more he quietly pulled himself out to stroke slowly, edging himself while she lectured. The second time, a girl in the front row dropped her pen and bent to pick it up, giving Jon a perfect view of her strappy black sandals and painted toenails. He switched his focus to those delicate straps crossing her arches and came again quickly, this time aiming downward so his load pooled directly on the floor between his shoes.
By the time the bell rang for second period, Jon had orgasmed three times in forty-five minutes, each one triggered by a different pair of women's shoes in the room. Cum streaked the floor under his desk and dotted his sneakers, but when students stood to leave, they simply stepped around the messes without comment. Ashley grabbed her backpack and paused beside him. "You left kind of a big one there," she said conversationally, nodding toward the fresh puddle. "Someone might slip later."
Jon flushed, but his cock gave another interested twitch at her casual tone. "Yeah, sorry," he muttered.
She shrugged and smiled. "It's fine. Just maybe aim for a tissue next time if you can." Then she walked out, her own white canvas sneakers squeaking faintly on the tile.
Ms. Harper remained at her desk, organizing papers. Jon lingered, watching her cross her legs under the desk so one red pump dangled from her toes. The shoe bobbed gently as she typed something on her computer. His hand drifted back to his zipper almost automatically. She looked up and met his eyes, then glanced down at where his hand was heading. "Jon, if you're staying after the bell, at least close the door so you don't disturb anyone in the hallway," she said matter-of-factly. "I have papers to grade, but I don't mind if you need to finish again."
Jon's mouth went dry with arousal. He stood, cock already stiffening anew, and walked to the door to push it shut. The click of the latch sounded loud in the empty room. When he turned back, Ms. Harper had kicked off one pump entirely and was flexing her stockinged foot, the red shoe resting on its side beside her chair. Jon's breath caught. He dropped his jeans right there in the middle of the classroom, wrapped both hands around his aching shaft, and began stroking furiously while staring at that abandoned pump and the sheer nylon clinging to her toes.
Ms. Harper resumed typing, occasionally glancing over her monitor at him with mild curiosity, as if watching a student complete an assignment. "Take your time," she said softly. "We have about eight minutes before my next class arrives."
Jon groaned openly now, pumping faster, eyes darting between her bare foot and the glossy pump on the floor. The freedom to indulge without hiding, without shame, sent him spiraling quickly toward another explosive climax despite already emptying his balls during class. He stepped closer, aiming deliberately, and when he came he painted a few thick white stripes across the top of her discarded red pump. Some landed on the leather, some slid down into the toe. Ms. Harper watched the final spurts with a small, amused smile.
"Thank you for the enthusiasm, Jon," she said, slipping her foot back into the sticky shoe without hesitation. The patent leather squelched faintly as her toes pushed through his load. "Now you'd better get to your next class before you're late again."
Jon pulled up his jeans, legs shaky, and stumbled out into the hallway with the taste of pure bliss on his tongue and the knowledge that the school day had only just begun.
