April 27, 2020: I have submitted an edited copy of this story to Literotica. Thanks to andyinoz for giving chapter 1 and 2 a lookover for me!
Chapter 1: The Class
It was my last semester at college in 1999. It would be my last full term to complete my bachelor's degree, and then it would be time to move on to grad school in another state. I was getting a bit of a late start, being twenty-eight now and having finally returned to college earlier in the year so I could finish my senior year. My studies had been interrupted when I rashly married at twenty-one, then ended up divorced at twenty-six.
Luckily, I only had two serious classes left, along with a few weekend workshops made up of electives to push me to full-time level. In addition to my studies, I spent a few hours per week at a work study job, and I also worked part time off-campus. I had moved in with my mother so that I could save money toward my January move to grad school.
My Tuesday-Thursday classes were Cultural Diversity and Psychology of Human Sexuality. It was in Human Sexuality that I first met Zach, and became involved in a little research experiment of my own design, which led to one of the most memorable periods of my life.
On the first day of the Human Sexuality class, I arrived at the classroom with a couple of minutes to spare and scouted out the remaining seats. To one side, it seemed most of the girls in class had flocked together, either giggling, checking their makeup, or doing their best to ignore the rest of us. The middle section seemed to be where the middle-aged 'return to college' folks ended up, and the other side was mostly unoccupied. A lone guy sat in the seat I would normally have chosen for myself, back row, farthest right hand seat. I decided to take the seat next to him, deviously planning to arrive early for the next class and steal it from him. I was a bit mercenary that way.
As I sat, the guy flicked an alarmed look at me, and I almost felt sympathy for him. I usually chose the seat he had to avoid having to deal with too many people around me. I gave him a friendly smile, which he reciprocated, before his cheeks flushed pink and he returned his attention to his notebook. Interesting.
There was a commotion at the front of the classroom, as three young men entered noisily, jostling each other and laughing. They stopped short to check out the available seating, showing great interest in the flock of chattery birds on the other side of the room, before their eyes found my neighbor. The biggest of the three nudged the other two, said something in a low voice, and they came clambering toward us.
My new neighbor looked both alarmed, and somehow resigned, to their oncoming presence. I felt more than heard him sigh deeply. He looked at me apologetically as they flopped into chairs, one in front of each of us, and the other to my left, surrounding us like a pack of hunting dogs,
"Hey, brainiac," the largest of them said to my neighbor, reaching over to rub his hand hard over the kid's head, mussing his hair.
"Hey, Reggie," he answered neutrally, smoothing his hair back into place.
"Think you're gonna learn anything in this class? Like, maybe how to have a better relationship with your right hand?" He made a gesture, clearly indicating he was referring to jacking off. The other two snorted in amusement.
My neighbor blushed a deeper red than he had earlier.
"Excuse me, gentleman," I said smoothly. "I'm going to have to ask the two of you who just came in and sat next to me to move at least one seat away. At
least
one seat. You might even want to move two. See, I have this medical condition, and well, it could be bad news for anyone sitting too close." I glanced at my neighbor, who was staring at me incredulously. "You should be okay. You're not so close you might trigger it. And you're not covered in obnoxious cologne, which is really helpful, so thank you."
The two interlopers looked at me like I had sprouted a second head.
"I'd really hate to have to ask the professor to get involved. It might even require going to the Dean of Student Affairs, since I have a written accommodation on file specifically allowing me to arrange my classroom seating for my, uh, maximum health benefit. I just thought it would be better to ask you nicely to help me out by moving without going through all that stupid red tape, you know?" I gave them my most innocent smile. "You look like such sweet boys, I don't want to cause you any trouble. And I would hate it if you were, well, inconvenienced by my sometimes spontaneous vomiting."
I was bluffing my ass off. I don't know what made me do it; I really didn't care where these asshats sat, but something about them reminded me of a pack of jackals, and I wanted them away. I had no authority to make it happen. I've often found that just using a friendly, assertive tone was enough to convince people I knew exactly what I was doing, and that I really just had their best interests at heart.
"Yeah, okay," muttered the one next to me, and slid over two seats. The one in front of me was more reluctant but the big kid, obviously the ringleader, punched his arm, muttering to him that they'd get there earlier next class and sit where they damn well pleased. Both of them ended up moving a couple seats up to be near the third jackal, leaving me and my new neighbor pretty much isolated.
"Wow," my neighbor muttered, giving me a look that contained more than a little respect. "That was like the best line of bullshit I've ever heard anyone run on those guys
and
have it work."
He glanced at the three amigos, who were quietly speaking to each other, occasionally looking back at the two of us.
"Those guys are clearly dicks. Are they friends of yours? Do you want to go sit with them?" I asked, trying not to sound hopeful that he'd move, and I would gain my favored seat.
"No," he snorted. "The blonde guy is my roommate though. I wouldn't exactly call him my friend. The other two are his friends, that's how I know them." He lowered his voice. "And they are dicks."
Our discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. B, one of the professors who typically taught the graduate level psych students, except for this one undergraduate course. Because of that, I'd not had any previous contact with him and had no idea what to expect aside from rumors that he was a bit of an ass, with a dash of burnt out and bitter.
Oh yeah, it was shaping up to be a great class, I thought sarcastically.
Dr. B immediately started with a caution that we were to act like adults in his class, because the content was adult-oriented material, a serious branch of the field of psychology, and he wouldn't put up with any nonsense from us. He also warned that anyone overly sensitive or unwilling to participate fully in the class, including graphic discussions and watching of graphic videos should take themselves immediately to get their schedule changed while other classes were still open and available.
To prove his point, he turned on the TV and VCR, turned off the lights, and began the show.
We sat wide-eyed, in silence, watching a clinical video about the research of Masters and Johnson, which included excerpts of archived films showing their tests subjects both masturbating and having intercourse. Naked, everyday people, calmly discussing their sex lives, or lack thereof, with people in lab coats holding clipboards. People volunteering to tell the most intimate details of their lives to the researchers. And not just tell, but demonstrate.
Maybe it's wrong, but I felt vaguely sexy sitting in the dark, with total strangers, and watching people fuck each other in the name of science.
After forty-five minutes of the visual and aural assault on our senses, the lights were abruptly turned on, and we sat blinking in the sudden brightness.
I used my peripheral vision to gauge the reactions of my classmates, and it was apparent that I wasn't the only one who found the film...interesting. Some appeared horrified, some sat ramrod straight in their chairs, staring straight ahead, while a few appeared studiously interested in the top of their desk. Several were shifting in their seats, just a bit, mking adjustments to suddenly too tight clothing, perhaps. I was trying hard not to squirm too much, while relieving the discomfort of my jeans pressing against my damp nether regions.
My neighbor was leaning forward, eyes halfway between the TV and his desk, arms crossed in a way that rather effectively was hiding what I suspected was an erection. I wanted to look closer. Instead, I tipped my head back a tad and stared at the ceiling. Must...not...look.
Dr. B allowed no time for recovery. He launched into a description of the semester activities, reviewing the textbook (which contained very real photos and blunt discussions on a variety of sexual topics), the syllabus (to include more videos, pretty much every class session), and a research paper, which was to be completed with a partner.
"We will wait until Thursday to discuss details of the research paper, after those who are faint of heart have had time to find a new course," Dr. B sneered. "Now, take one of these sheets and pass them around," he said, thrusting a thin stack of paper at the first student he could reach without having to take too many steps.
"Everyone has one?" he continued. "Good. Now partner up with someone and spend the next twenty minutes getting to know them. You will ask each other the questions on this paper. You will not take notes. You will listen to their responses. Ask the question, respond, move on to the next one. This isn't Penthouse Forum!"
I glanced at the first few questions and swallowed, nearly choking in shock. Partner up and ask someone about their first sexual experience, whether it involved penetration or not? Ask them at what age they lost their virginity? I could hear the others in class whispering and rattling their papers.
When I looked up, I saw the lead jackal's eyes focus on my young neighbor, and immediately understood he was intent on needling this shy boy for his own amusement.
"I hope you don't mind," I said smoothly, turning to my perpetually blushing neighbor. "I thought we could partner up, then we don't even have to move our seats." I smiled winningly, noting the alarm flashing across his features.
"Uhhh, yeah, uh, sure. Yeah." His eyes flicked to the lead jackal, who had managed to approach silently for such a bull-sized human. "Uh, hi Reg. Did you, uh, need something?"
"Hey, chick," he said, addressing me instead. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be partnered with a man who actually has something to talk about besides some porno-induced fantasy life?"
I ignored him and kept my eyes on my neighbor.
"Maybe we should turn our chairs to face each other? Or would you prefer to sit side by side? I can scoot over." I didn't wait for him. I turned my chair to present my back was to the interloper. My new buddy turned his chair to face me.
The hulking mass behind me muttered something under his breath and shuffled away.
