So I've got a bone to pick to-day. It seems like there is a consistent theme among stories about sex academies, with few twists. The guys get off on the hour; the girls get abused; the reader jacks off; and the writer’s story’s rating goes up. Yet to me, they all read the same.
I was in a bit of a sarcastic mood this morning, so here is my perspective ‘new’ take on Sex Academies.
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She was late to class. Janet sprinted down the halls, here bare heals painfully striking the cold stone floor. This day was going from bad to worse, first the pop quiz in history, now this. Her book bag, slung over her shoulder, slapped against her bare flank with each step. Her breast bounced with her strides. On she ran.
She cursed the academy’s budget cuts – they no longer paid students to model in classes. The role fell to the last person to enter the class room. Next up for her was “Whips and Flogs: a Technical Approach.” This was going to hurt.
She nearly collided into two people covered in sheets of paper as she rounded a corner. Twisted out of the way, and kept running. Grad students, she mused. They yelled at her and then went back to debating whether Klienstien’s paper on the Gaussian distribution of sexual arousal as a function of clothing worn was going to change the sexual community ‘for ever’.
The door was in sight. Big gray, office like. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Sweat was beading on her forward, her chest heaved. On the door there was a small note, it read: “Special Attire: none.” She breathed a sigh of relief, took a deep breath and entered the class room.
There stood Professor Thatcher. He was wearing a gray suit as usual. Seated in cramped class room were fifty of her fellow students. They were wearing nothing. Everyone was scribbling on note pads as the professor was writing an equation on the board.
He looked at her, and gestured to the table. “Janet, how nice of you to join us. Please lay down.” Janet unslung her bag and propped against the wall. She walked over to the table and lay down own the cold smooth surface. The professor paused, then began speaking again. “And here we use equation 2.13 for yesterdays lecture to solve for the idealized curve.”
Janet smiled. Maybe theory classes weren’t so bad after all.
I was in a bit of a sarcastic mood this morning, so here is my perspective ‘new’ take on Sex Academies.
----
She was late to class. Janet sprinted down the halls, here bare heals painfully striking the cold stone floor. This day was going from bad to worse, first the pop quiz in history, now this. Her book bag, slung over her shoulder, slapped against her bare flank with each step. Her breast bounced with her strides. On she ran.
She cursed the academy’s budget cuts – they no longer paid students to model in classes. The role fell to the last person to enter the class room. Next up for her was “Whips and Flogs: a Technical Approach.” This was going to hurt.
She nearly collided into two people covered in sheets of paper as she rounded a corner. Twisted out of the way, and kept running. Grad students, she mused. They yelled at her and then went back to debating whether Klienstien’s paper on the Gaussian distribution of sexual arousal as a function of clothing worn was going to change the sexual community ‘for ever’.
The door was in sight. Big gray, office like. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Sweat was beading on her forward, her chest heaved. On the door there was a small note, it read: “Special Attire: none.” She breathed a sigh of relief, took a deep breath and entered the class room.
There stood Professor Thatcher. He was wearing a gray suit as usual. Seated in cramped class room were fifty of her fellow students. They were wearing nothing. Everyone was scribbling on note pads as the professor was writing an equation on the board.
He looked at her, and gestured to the table. “Janet, how nice of you to join us. Please lay down.” Janet unslung her bag and propped against the wall. She walked over to the table and lay down own the cold smooth surface. The professor paused, then began speaking again. “And here we use equation 2.13 for yesterdays lecture to solve for the idealized curve.”
Janet smiled. Maybe theory classes weren’t so bad after all.
