es into the lesson, I went to the toilet; when I returned to my seat, I found a message typed at the bottom of my notes: "touch me"

I looked at Cheryl, who gave an almost imperceptible nod; I thought to myself "where?"

The lesson dragged on, and periodically I let my hand wander to Cheryl's thigh, which I stroked up and down when teach wasn't looking. Annoyingly, the teacher tasked me with handing out the sheets she'd gotten printed off earlier, but when I next looked at my computer screen, I found another, different message: "touch me more"

So I did. Whenever the teacher's back was turned, my hand would be straight onto Cheryl's leg. when I looked inquiringly at her, she nodded, and I got the go-ahead to touch elsewhere. Just then the teacher started to turn around, so i had to quickly snatch my hand back to my keyboard. I looked up at the clock above the door; 45 minutes left. When next the teacher turned away, my hand went right back to Cheryl's thigh, from which it slowly probed upwards, until my fingertips were firmly between her legs. By the time the teacher once again faced the class, I had stroked up and down her legs a few times, getting ever nearer to her crotch. Every so often I had looked to her, always getting the same lust-filled eyes and the same "it's okay" nod. Unfortunately, we never had time to go further, as our teacher dismissed us shortly afterward, leaving me feeling disappointed and Cheryl visibly so. We soundlessly agreed to continue our exploration of each other next lesson - but she would be exploring me.

Part II on it's way, depending on the response to Part I; I know this one's short, but there's so much more to tell in Part II