What I Learned About Public Sex In A Catholic School Cafeteria

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Weirdest study period EVER.

I was very sheltered growing up.

I didn’t have very many friends with older brothers, I was a nervous, timid kid, and I went to Catholic school from kindergarten until the end of high school.

When it came to topics like sex, in particular, I was completely at a loss. I’d picked a few things up from the occasional movie I’d catch on HBO, but that was it. I had very little practical or even anecdotal experience when it came to the realities of sex.

That all changed, however, during my first week of high school, when I unexpectedly learned about handjobs in a very unlikely environment — the school cafeteria.


Let me be clear from the start — I did not receive the handjob in question. At the time, I wished I had. (I’m not so sure as I get older.)

Instead, I was just a naïve young freshman walking into the weird world of witnessing public sex acts in a Catholic school cafeteria.

I was the new kid at the school, so I was anxious about making friends. I had an off-period in the middle of the day, so, not knowing what to do, I went down to the cafeteria to grab a soda.

As I sat alone in a booth, suddenly, a bunch of other freshmen slid into the adjoining booths and started talking to me. To their credit, they were all exceptionally nice. There was no bullying, no hazing. Just genuine interest in who I was and friendly conversation. It was kind of wonderful.

Quickly, my attention was drawn to Jack and Diane (obvious fake names to protect the innocent). They were clearly a couple — Jack was a tall, lean soccer player, Diane was cute and barely five feet tall.

They were cuddling together in a booth across from the rest of us and something was… off. The looks of their faces were unusual. Jack didn’t make eye contact — his focus was constantly shifting. Diane almost dared you to make eye contact. She looked dead-ahead with a sly smirk on her face.

They kept shifting and moving at odd intervals, like they had a mutual twitch or a spasm.

I guess it was obvious that I was perplexed by their weird tableau, because, suddenly, a girl named Jenny leaned over and whispered in my ear, “She’s jerking him off.”

I tried to play it cool, but my brain was screaming “WHAT!?” We were in school, surrounded by people, and she was giving him a handjob?!

It was the single kinkiest thing I’d ever witnessed in my life at that point, and I simply couldn’t wrap my head around it.


“Seriously?!” I whispered back to Jenny.

She nodded. “They’ve been going out FOREVER. They can’t keep their hands off each other.”

It turned out that Jack and Diane had a sneaky little system to accommodate their mutual love for a mid-day rub-and-tug.

Jack would cut out the bottoms of the pockets in his Catholic school uniform pants. This would allow Diane to reach into his pockets and get unobstructed access to his downstairs business. If they were feeling modest, Jack might fold a sweatshirt over his lap, but he wasn’t always so shy.

And they would do this, daily, in the cafeteria, in front of everyone, even though, amongst the students, it was the worst kept secret in the world.

Like I said, back then, this was the single raunchiest thing I’d ever encountered. Was this what high school was like? Did I need to prepare myself for Caligula-style orgies in the library?

It turns out, no, I didn’t have to prepare myself for anything of the sort. Jack and Diane were a strange aberration — a single shining beacon of exhibitionist sex amongst a repressed community of teenagers trapped in oxford shirts and knee socks.

I never got a cafeteria handjob myself, but I find myself thinking back on their unique situation and I’m plagued with questions.

Did they not care that people knew what they were doing? Or was that part of the excitement? How did no one ever rat them out to a teacher or the principal? Did Diane ever expect reciprocation or was she just happy to give?

How did Jack get through each day without having useable pockets? Did Jack’s mother never wonder what kept happening to his pockets when she did his laundry? And, speaking of laundry, how do you clean that mess up every day?

And — this makes me feel old — but who wants a public handjob every single day? Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but doesn’t it eventually get old/sore/friction-burned?

Maybe I’m just jealous in retrospect, but I have to say, more than anything else, I’m actually really glad I got to witness Jack and Diane’s secretive sex show almost every day in fourth period that year.


Because, for an awkward 14-year-old, those two crazy teenagers represented a much wider, weirder universe of sexual kink than I’d ever previously imagined.

Jack left that cafeteria feeling calm, relaxed, and probably a little sticky, but I left that cafeteria with a wealth of secret sexual knowledge that I hadn’t expected to find in a Catholic school lunchroom.

I now knew that “People are getting secret handjobs EVERYWHERE” and I set out, wide-eyed and hopeful, that, one day, I might have my own clandestine kink that would separate me from everyone else — ideally one that might be a little less public and a little easier on a pair of navy blue Dockers.