"Where?" she asked, looking up at him and trying to imagine him all alone in his dormitory room, masturbating. "In bed or in the john?"

"Everywhere," he said. "Both places. And your image dangled all the time above my head. Right up here," he said, raising his hand to a foot above him.

"Oh, that's nice," she said, giggling. "It's nice to know I was up there. I was your muse of masturbation."

"Very amusing," he said. "Yes." He grinned above her, his lips nearly touching her own. She felt his warm breath on her face. Their breaths together made a cloud in the air of the frosty woodshed.

"My gosh, it's cold in here," she exclaimed. "But you're so warm on top of me, I barely notice."

His mouth went down to her breast and she felt his warm lips and breath on it.

Her fingers undid his fly. She could do that with her eyes closed. She reached into his jocks and sprung the cock out. It was like a jack in the box. A cock in the box.

He had a good eight inches. He was very proud of it. And she was too.

She told him once he was the best hung man on campus. He asked her how she knew.

She smiled mysteriously each time he asked.

Right now he was feeling her cold, cold hands on his warm cock. He was nearly creaming already. Her cold hands had the effect of someone throwing ice cubes on him. It was definitely heightening.

She jacked his cock into a ballooning erection. She watched her hands in motion. She loved the feel of the hard, pulsating muscle.

She played with it as he had once instructed her. It was the only instruction she ever needed. he fingered it skillfully and he creamed in her palm.

"Mmmmmmm," he groaned, feeling tremendous relief. He came so much lately, he couldn't keep count. And he couldn't keep from coming. He could think of nothing else but sex lately. He didn't fight it. He just accepted it.

He was erect again all ready. That was his pattern. He would cream, and then the irrepressible thing would spring to action again.