CHAPTER TEN
ELEMENTAL
How can one but regard a society with derision that lacks the courage and maturity to face up to the sexuality of its most virile citizens. These young adults placed in my charge should have been out fornicating at every opportunity day and night, but instead they were subjected to ceaseless, commercialized, sniggering titillation on the one hand, and knuckle-dragging, ignorant, puritanical repression on the other, and then expected to sit still and memorize the Gettysburg Address. What utter nonsense.
Now, I am the last person to advocate that they be allowed to run riot in an orgy of free love and erotic indulgence, after all, our biological ancestors had to... earn... their opportunities to fornicate. But rather than deny their basic evolutionary demands, I intended to harness their vitality and use it to control and motivate them to become decent, hardworking citizens. The potential here was enormous, so it was with considerable excitement that I observed young Winston when he arrived promptly at seven A.M. Saturday morning. His mother was being difficult; claiming that because of a change in her plans she could not allow him to be away from home that evening. It was annoying to say the least, but I had determined that I would simply step up the tempo of the experiment.
For simplicity's sake I intended to concentrate on the most difficult population, the eighteen and nineteen year olds. My concept was not rocket science, in fact it was so... elemental... so natural that even my low wattage secretary could understand it.
Is there any chance that my theories will be accepted? In some distant future perhaps, when I will be seen in retrospect as a courageous pioneer, but in America, in ...this... century, most certainly not. Frankly I don't care; my lifelong, selfless dedication to teaching, has led me to a position where I finally have the opportunity to put my long-held theories to the test. I will record my findings for posterity certainly, but I do this primarily for my own... intellectual satisfaction. Should I also achieve some sexual gratification as well, and I believe I might, that will be purely incidental to the main purpose of the experiment.
The task before me was difficult but relatively straight forward. I had to ascertain how many orgasms these young beasts required every day to bring them to a state of sexual satiation and docility. Then I had to determine the best possible method for achieving these orgasms without wasting precious teaching time or getting anybody pregnant. I also acknowledged that it would have to be sufficiently pleasurable to everyone involved that they would be motivated to keep it all a secret. A tall order, but I was never one to shrink from a challenge.
I knew that there would be individual variations, of course, but I suspected that the number of orgasms required would be between three and six. To get to the hard truth we would have to engage in diligent and persistent experimentation and observation, starting with young Winston and a suitable female subject as soon as one could be obtained. After that we could slowly increase the pool of test subject until we had gathered a representative population.
Miss Stella Daily, who rents a room from me, complained that it was too early in the day to be sexy, but on the contrary, I told her to leave herself just as she was when she rolled out of bed that morning. With her sleepy eyes, her cloud of red hair in unruly disarray, and her natural blowsy, boudoir look about her, I knew that she would be perfect for the task at hand. Naked under a short, thin, nightgown that glided over her wonderful pale skin I knew that she would be as distracting to a boy like Winston as a class room full of tight skirted teenage girls.
None the less I understood that she might require assistance, and I was willing to get my hands dirty, so to speak, in the interests of science. To that end, I was up early as usual, but dressed in a thoroughly inappropriate manner. I am not unfamiliar with the display and use of feminine charms, although I had never had to put mine to the test before. I squeezed into a very proper knee length skirt that I had outgrown in every direction, and pulled it over top of black nylon stockings. On top I wore a crisp, far too tight, white blouse that stretched across my ample bosom over top of a so called "push-up" brassiere. I wore four inch heels purchased specially for this occasion. It had been a long time since I had worn such shoes, but the feeling of power they gave me was unchanged.
I didn't want to situate the estimate, but there was no need, and in fact no time, to approach the problem with robotic thoroughness. My thesis was that the maximum number of orgasms would be six, and that the maximum acceptable time to achieve them would be twenty minutes apiece. Therefore we would endeavor to make the boy "come" as they say, as often and as quickly as possible. After each orgasm we would then subject him to the appropriate degree of sexual stimulation required to return him to a restless, inattentive, condition.
The boy was prompt, well-scrubbed and eager as he stood before me in my large library den.
"Take off your clothes," I commanded.
"Yes ma'am," he replied and started stripping at once.
"I want to be able to observe your cock at all times," I added. I had decided to use current slang when referring to anatomy and sexual activities as it was commonly regarded as more sexually stimulating than clinical language.
"Yes ma'am," he replied again, and by that time he was completely naked and standing at attention. I could see that we would be able to commence with the experiment immediately as his large member was standing out fully engorged.
I was perched on the edge of my desk, purposely posed with one leg raised so that I could swing my foot from which a shoe dangled seductively. My skirt was hiked up higher than was necessary in order to display the tops of my stockings, and all but one of the buttons on my blouse was undone. I had given considerable thought to my appearance and pose, whereas Stella required no forethought or coaching. She sat crosswise in an armchair a little to the side of my desk with her legs up on the arm so that her gown had fallen back into her lap revealing her fiery thatch of pubic hair. She regarded Winston with frank interest and licked her pouting lips with the tip of her tongue.
"Masturbate," I said.
"Ma'am?"
"Masturbate," I repeated firmly.
"Jerk off," Stella called out from her chair.
"Yes... jerk off Winston," I said.
"Right here?"
"Yes, I want to watch you and time you."
"Just like this, right here, standing up?"
"Yes," I replied and hitched my skirt up a bit higher so that he could see the crotch of my expensive, black silk panties. Stella shifted her position a little and pointed her "pussy" right at him.
