Berto unwinds the tangles in his headset cord, and slides the collection bag closer to him. After nearly a year in the institute, he's gotten used to the idea that he's locked to a bag of his own piss and cum. He only notices it at times like this, trying not to fall behind. To pull enough of the real world into him, to make up for what they're sucking out, even though online video courses where there was no help if he didn't understand the proofs. He's determined not to be among the half of the institute's 'veterans' who will be released - thrown out? - after ten years of production, brain-dead sex addicts without futures.
Math hadn't come easily to him in high school, but he with his relentless drive he knows it's only a matter of trying different approaches until he knows the formulas intuitively, applies them accurately. He's just completed the second of the two hour-and-a-half mandated workouts, pushing even harder than usual. The exhaustion usually helps him settle into studying.
Instead, he's restarted the video twice now to stare at the blonde who asks about the connection between derivatives and e. If he were in the room, he'd walk up to her after class and tell her he couldn't stop watching the way her hair caught the light. He'd stand close to her, touch her hand, look into her eyes and a few drinks later he'd be inside her. He'd learned his height, his too-cool-to-shave scruff and his confidence were enough to make most girls wet.
That was fine with him, but he wants one who would dare him to be the best she'd had. He wants to hear the blonde scream as she comes from his tongue and his cock, to fuck her for hours until neither of them can remember their names. To be so completely satisfied neither of them has the energy to move off of the puddle she'd leave on the bed. Maybe even wake up to her afterwards, tolerate her when she said something bitchy, surprise her with a gift during their next dinner together.
As she points to an equation on the board, she leans forward and to one side and her breast is pressed to the arm she's leaning against. Her blouse is only open by two buttons but Berto is hypnotized by this moment, the glimpse of her bust shifting. He leans forward, ignoring the porn projected onto the walls of the common room that he's trapped in, imagining instead he was there in her class. The blonde flirting with a professor, just because she genuinely wants some attention, has Berto more aroused than the gym-perfect porn bodies the institute shows him.
