You know, it's not just about the sex. Some days it's about the quiet moments that almost feel normal. Like when a few of them dragged me to the bathhouse after sports practice. Not to fuck, but to 'hang out.' Sitting in that steaming water, surrounded, listening to them gossip about teachers and crushes. The casual way a thigh would press against mine, a breast would brush my arm as someone reached for a towel. It's a constant, low-grade hum of awareness. My cock is hard most of the time I'm awake, a fact they all seem to know and casually acknowledge. But in moments like that, the desire isn't a frantic need to bend someone over a desk. It's deeper. It's about wanting to be let into the circle, not just as a novelty or a walking hard-on, but as someone they trust enough to be vulnerable with. To see the girl behind the teasing smirk when she's tired and quiet. To have one of them rest her head on my shoulder not to tease, but because she's actually comfortable there. That intimacy feels more forbidden than any quick fuck in a storage closet.