Peeping at the teacher masturbating

I've done this a lot, and sometimes it no longer excites me; it feels mundane. But it's probably become a habit; I have to do it every day, or I feel uncomfortable. Here, I'll write about a few of my most memorable peeping experiences from high school.

The most exciting one was when I saw a woman masturbating in the bathroom, and that woman happened to be someone I liked. I want to say a few more words about this woman. The feeling between us was strange. Sometimes when I was walking around school, I felt like someone was watching me, and when I turned around, I found her watching me. Sometimes I could spot her instantly in a crowd on campus. I was very attracted to her.

But at the time, I had a girlfriend, so I didn't dare to have any contact with her, because I knew that if I said just one word, I wouldn't be able to control myself, and it would become uncontrollable, like peeping. That day, the sunlight lazily shone on her back through the gauze window. My spot was dark, so I wasn't worried about reflections in the mirror, and I could peep freely. She took off her red school uniform pants, and I saw that she was wearing red and white striped underwear. I saw her dark brown labia, her labia minora wider than her labia majora, turned outwards. I saw wetness on her pubic hair; she'd probably held it in for too long, and urine had sprayed out.

After urinating, she took out some tissue to wipe herself and stood up. At this point, I just hoped she would change into a sanitary pad so I could masturbate. I didn't expect her to not be wearing underwear, but instead take a large watercolor pen from her bag. She placed the pen in her underwear, then began rubbing her clitoris with one hand and massaging her labia with the other. After a while, she lifted her shirt, and I saw her pink bra. She put one hand inside, rubbing her nipples, while the other hand accelerated the rubbing below. I heard her soft, rapid breathing. Then she inserted the pen, thrusting it quickly, while her other hand pulled down her bra, frantically massaging her nipples… My penis was painfully hard.

I wished I had four hands, because I was kneeling on the ground, holding a mirror in one hand; in that position, I couldn't masturbate. I don't know how long it lasted, but time seemed to crawl by, as if the air itself had frozen. I saw her suddenly tighten down there, her body tensing up too. I knew she'd climaxed. She sat on the wastebasket, seemingly savoring something. The pen was still in there, not taken out.

After a while, she took out some paper and started wiping herself. Then she changed her sanitary pad and left. I quickly ran to that stall, found the toilet paper and pad she'd just thrown away, and went to the men's restroom to masturbate. I kept that pad for a long time.

Another memorable experience was peeping at two female teachers I was infatuated with masturbating. I had two teachers in my grade whom I was really into; let's call them D and S. Because teachers had their own private restrooms, it was difficult to peep at them.

But the teachers' restrooms had a weakness: there was only one stall, and there was always a queue. This made it easy for me to peep at S; I only caught a glimpse of her by accident. S was a very attractive woman, over 30, but she looked very young, and I really wanted to sleep with her. That time I went to the restroom, and suddenly I noticed S was in front of me. N was holding a pack of sanitary napkins. I guessed someone was in the teacher's restroom, and she was in a hurry,

which was why she ran to the girls' restroom. I heard her go in and close the door, and after listening for a few seconds without any other sound, I seized the opportunity and rushed in. I looked down and saw her in the second stall. I ran to the third stall, squatted down, and took out a mirror. She had already started urinating; her buttocks were round, with marks from her underwear.

Her pubic hair was thick, and her labia were dark. I saw a sticky stream of menstrual blood flowing from her vagina, very sticky, like snot… It moved with the frequency of her urination, and it took a long time to stop. After she finished, she stood up, changed her sanitary napkin, pulled up her underwear, and hurriedly left. I ran over and saw the sanitary napkin she had used. I picked it up. There was a lot of menstrual blood; she probably had just started her period. Then I noticed she had left her key pouch there. Suddenly,

an idea came to me.

I wrapped my key pouch in a sanitary napkin and knocked over the trash can, so it would be visible but no one else would know it had been touched. After that, I immediately left through the other exit. Sure enough, she came back, and I heard the sound of a sanitary napkin being torn inside; I knew she was doing it.

I pretended to go to the restroom and bumped into her at the door. She gave me an awkward smile. It felt great.

Peeping was purely a scheme. I knew Teacher C was particularly fastidious about cleanliness. So I deliberately messed up her restroom, throwing trash, sanitary napkins, and toilet paper everywhere, even throwing sanitary napkins into the water, turning the water red. As soon as the door opened, you could see sanitary napkins and panty liners lying on the floor. Most people would hesitate under such conditions, let alone someone with OCD. Every day, I waited in the restroom, and when I saw her walking this way, I would rush to the women's restroom early and squat down to wait for her.

Finally, on the afternoon of the first day, I saw her. I really liked D; a charming young woman. She was wearing a flesh-colored lace panty, and I couldn't resist. Her labia were indeed as full and plump as I had imagined. Her used sanitary pads were damp and yellow. Later, I secretly slipped her sanitary pads into her drawer, then pretended to have a problem and went to her office to wait for her. Sure enough, when she opened the drawer, she hesitated for a moment, then closed it. Hahaha, the pleasure I felt then was indescribable.

[The End]

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