The Universe of Discretion: The Order

I’d only been at college for two weeks when I was approached by a guy who I later found out was part of a secret society.

“You’ve been chosen,” he said, handing me a black card that was about the size of a business card.

I unfolded it to reveal a phone number.

At first, I thought it was some kind of freshman prank. But after three days, curiosity got the best of me.

An hour later, I got a response.

Holy shit! Was I supposed to feel honored, freaked out, or like I was being punked?

I had almost convinced myself it was all a big joke when I started receiving individual texts with questions.

How did they know about that? That was high school!

The messages stopped as abruptly as they had started.

But the next morning, I received a sort of motto.

What kind of proposal did they mean?

Four days had passed, and I’d honestly forgotten about the whole weird encounter.

The coursework was intense but incredibly interesting.

I never thought studying could be this captivating.

My dorm room felt suffocating, so I did most of my studying in the student lounge, listening to my nature sounds playlist.

I took notes in a way that only I could understand.

The only way I could effectively learn was by manipulating the information, making it my own without losing the original content.

I was in the middle of deciphering a particularly tough paragraph when a girl sat down next to me.

It seemed unnecessary given the amount of space at the table, but I didn’t say anything.

I continued writing when she suddenly dropped a black paper onto my notebook.

I recognized it instantly and shot her a look.

She was hidden under a hoodie, staring at the opposite wall, her face completely obscured.

I carefully opened the paper and almost choked on my own spit.

The black paper had five lines written in a flowing script with a white pen.

Holy shit! What kind of proposal was this?

And what kind of organization was this?

The crazy thing was that my mind was spinning.

I’d messed around a bit in high school, but this?

It felt like the paper was giving me some kind of special permission.

Was that the point of all this?

If I said no, this experience would end.

But now I was even more curious to see where this would lead.

All right, here goes nothing.

If I got caught, I’d be in deep shit.

I carefully slid my hand under the table, pretending to study the text in front of me.

Not being able to see what I was doing made this crazy adventure even more thrilling.

I found what I was looking for and gently pressed my middle finger into the soft, wet opening.

The girl was clearly as excited by all this secrecy as I was.

The angle was a bit awkward, but I couldn’t really do anything about it.

I added a second finger, which made her squirm in her seat.

I moved my fingers up and in, slowly but deliberately.

I could feel her trying not to react as her clit swelled under my touch.

I pulled my fingers out and used the tip of my middle finger to stimulate her further.

Round and round and… The girl grabbed my knee and squeezed it harder and harder.

Then suddenly she let go, stood up, and walked away.

What the fuck?

This was a total adrenaline rush; I couldn’t believe what I’d just done!

Needless to say, focusing on my studies was a lot harder with my heart pounding in my chest.