“Is it Tuesday yet?” Linda asked. She lay on her back on a towel with her eyes closed, her pale, well-oiled skin glistening in the bright sunshine. The warmth of the sun on her bare body and the rhythmic slap of the waves against the rocks at the end of the beach should have been soothing, but she was keyed-up and unable to lie still.

“Tomorrow.” Kathy told her. “Tuesday is tomorrow.”

Kathy didn’t need to ask why. Neither why the question, nor why Linda sounded so anxious. In the few weeks since they had first gone to the Calaveras Sun Club, they had established a mutually-agreed-upon schedule of return visits. At the time, it had seemed rational and logical to limit themselves to two afternoons a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. Going no more often than that would keep the club members from getting bored with them, give them time to recover from from all the wear the member’s cocks inflicted on their pussies, and most importantly, keep the experience fresh so they wouldn’t come to view going to the club as a chore. The last part turned out to be something they shouldn’t have worried over.

“I’m not sure I can wait,” Linda said, making fists with both hands to help her keep from touching herself. She had already climaxed twice – once with Kathy shortly after they’d come down to the beach, and a second time just a few minutes ago from playing with her own clit.

“You’re insatiable.” Kathy told her, rolling over so she could kiss Linda’s rosy pink nipple. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“I love you too. I’ll always want you. But I need a hard cock in me.”

“I know what you mean. The bigger, the Blacker, the better, right? Long enough to reach the deepest part of you? Thick enough to make you feel every inch of it?”

“Hush! You’re making me crazy!”

“You’re already crazy. And I am too. You think I don’t feel the same? I want to go over there right now and fuck every man who can get it up for me. But we’ve got to get control of ourselves. School starts in a couple of weeks and we’ll only be able to go get our Black cock fix on weekends – if then. Giving in to our urges now will only make it harder on us later, when we’ll need to focus on school.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” Linda agreed. “It’s all been so ... perfect. And now it’s all going away. No more marathon sex twice a week. No more stupid-big paychecks. I still can’t believe they paid us for having that much fun. I know, they aren’t paying us for that. The money is mostly from tips, but between that and the jackpot we made from letting Marcelloni turn us queer, we have quite a bit in that online bank account we set up. Enough to be able to do pretty much anything we want to do, since my scholarship turned out to cover room, board, books, fees, and ‘incidentals’, all of which can be charged to that pretty credit card they sent me. Plus, your biological father agreed to pay to send you too.” Linda sounded enthusiastic, which was an improvement in her mood.

Paul Drake held his tongue while loading-up both cars for the trip to Forest City. He knew very well that the girls had over-packed. Unless dorm rooms had changed dramatically in the last two decades and were now spacious and even palatial, he estimated that they had more than twice as much stuff as they would be able to fit into their room. But he also knew they would soon be coming face-to-face with several harsh realities of life and he’d be damned if he would start off the trip by rubbing their cute noses in one of them.

“Is there room for this, Daddy?” Kathy asked, holding up a plush toy that a girl her age should have outgrown several years earlier.

Paul looked at the penguin with a serious eye. It was, in all likelihood, going to be coming back with him at the end of the day, but hearing Kathy call him ‘Daddy’ always made his heart melt, so he just nodded and found a place in the trunk to wedge it into.

“I’m really going to miss her,” he thought. “I know I’m really going to miss both of them, but Linda didn’t ask to be my daughter, and Kathy did. I know it’s over an hour’s drive away, but I hope they come home often.”

Blinking away the tears that began to cloud his vision, Paul closed the trunk a bit more forcefully than necessary. He looked around for his son, but Ronnie was nowhere to be seen. Paul suspected that the boy had already said his goodbyes and was avoiding a potentially emotional scene. That he might be up in his room, curled-up on his bed, cradling a badly-aching pair of totally-drained testicles and a hickey-covered penis was the farthest thing from his mind.

After a couple of rounds of hugs and kisses, Paul got in his car and Kathy got in hers with Linda and they all drove off, leaving Melinda waving after them while dabbing at her eyes with a well-soaked tissue.

The drive to Forest City was uneventful and took slightly less time that Paul expected. They didn’t run into any problems until they arrived at the main Redfern College campus, where they joined what appeared to be hundreds of other cars clogging the narrow streets while trying to find where they were supposed to go. During a pause in the glacial flow of traffic, Paul set the brake and ran back to talk to Kathy and Linda.

“Look, we’re never going to find two spots together. Why don’t you take the next one we come to, then run into the office over there and get your room assignment? I’ll keep circling and hope I get lucky and can park somewhere close. OK?”

As luck would have it, the stoppage in traffic was caused by a car trying to back into traffic. The next three cars behind it should have taken the spot, except that it was too small for any of them. Kathy’s car, however, fit just fine and the girls were able to run into the building. After twenty minutes in a line of fellow students, they each received a packet of information, including keycards to room 207 of the Tipton Hall dormitory.

Two hours later, with the chaos of Moving-In Day still raging around them, Kathy and Linda were as settled as they were likely to be in a room both of them thought was far too small and lacking in a long list of things – closet space, drawer space, electrical outlets, and mirrors. Mr. Drake was on his way home, his car full of those things they had grudgingly agreed to surrender rather than leave in a pile on the floor, including one plush penguin strapped into the passenger seat beside him. Other new students still had piles of possessions in the hallway, waiting for a miracle to create space for them in their rooms.

The girls were sitting on one of the two single beds, trying to acclimate to the new environment.

“We could push the beds together,” Linda suggested. “But I don’t see where they’d fit.”

“I’d like that too. But do we really want everyone who gets a look in here to know we cuddle when we sleep?”

“I suppose not. This is going to be worse than home. It’s just so ... public!”

“Tell me about it. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. We’ll have to put something on if we have to go pee in the middle of the night. I think I can cope with showering in a group, but I do like to have privacy when I use the toilet.”

“Let’s get out of this madness and go walk around. We only saw the high-points when we were here before.”

“Good idea. Don’t forget your card. The student guide says they use those for everything -- getting into the building, eating in the dining hall, and parking in one of the reserved lots. I’m surprized they don’t use them instead of calling the roll in class, but I can see how that could be abused ... one person could swipe several cards.”

Away from the dorms, things were much calmer. The campus was beautifully landscaped and well-maintained. It had plenty of trees and open spaces, as well as walkways, benches, and a few flower gardens that reeked of fresh manure and the promise of blooms in the spring. Down in front of the Student Center were a row of card-tables with handmade signs promoting a variety of campus activities and organizations, all of which were looking for Freshmen willing to join, donate, or support them.

Among the tables for the campus newspaper, radio station, two religious societies, and three community-service groups, were those for the Fraternities and Sororities, all of whom hoped to encourage new pledges. Kathy and Linda were standing and looking at all the signs when a dark-haired girl wearing a badge with Greek letters approached them.

“Hi! I’m Chrissie! Welcome to Redfern.”

“Hi. I’m Kathy. This is Linda. We’re Freshmen.”

“Yeah, I know. Sophomores and Upperclassmen don’t move in until Wednesday. You newbs get an extra day to settle in.”

“Oh! That mess?” Linda waved at the dorms and all the cars surrounding them. “That’s just Freshmen?”

“Yep. Afraid so. It’s always like this. Nobody knows where to go or what to do and they all show up at the same time to do it. Hey, if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them. And not just about Sigma Theta Rho, although we’d love to have you as Pledges. Not everything is covered in those info packets the administration hands out. Like ... are you plugged?”

“Are we what?” Kathy asked.

“Obviously not,” Chrissie said. “At Redfern there is a kind of tradition of guys being ass-men. Girls who are into ass-stuff usually wear buttplugs.”

“Why?” Linda asked, hoping she wasn’t sounding too much like the newbie she was.

“You’ve really never done anal, have you? Several reasons. To fill the gape you get if the guy gets a little wild back there, or if he’s really hung. It’s ... neater, if you know what I mean. It also keeps you from getting a rosebud back there. Uh, that’s when your asshole tries to turn inside out. Some girls like to show their plugs off so guys will know they’re into that kind of thing. Don’t be surprized if you see girls in short skirts dropping things a lot. They’re just using it as an excuse to bend over and flash their plugs to let guys know they’re DTAF – that’s Down To Ass-Fuck.”

“Um, any suggestions about what classes we should take?” Linda asked, becoming a bit uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Freshmen don’t have a lot of leeway. You’ll have to take all the basic 100-level stuff your first year – History, English, a couple of Science courses, Math, IT, a Foreign Language course and two more in the Humanities. The Administration’s reasons for that is that no two High Schools teach the same things, even in college-prep courses, so they have to make sure everyone starts on the same page before going into anything advanced. You also have to do one Physical Activity. You can go out for a sport, like Field Hockey, Soccer, Track, Tennis, Golf, or join the Swim Team; or you can take the Physical Performance Equivalent Exam. The PPEE is a bitch. If you were a star athlete in High School or you’ve been training for the Olympics, you have a shot at passing that. Otherwise, forget it. If I were you, I’d put off the PA requirement until the Spring and sign up for Philosophy 100 this term. They run that once a year and it’s crip as hell. They teach it in the big lecture hall in the Humanities Center to a couple of hundred students at once. They only have two tests, the mid-term and the final, both essays. If you’re good at BS, you can get away with not doing any of the reading.”

“Good to know!” Kathy said, seeing an opportunity to ease her way into academia. “You got any other good tips?”

“Well, this one will just work for good-looking girls like you two. If you take Professor Rainer’s History class, sit down front and flash him some boob. You know, go braless and let him look down your top. It won’t get you an ‘A’, but it can turn a ‘C’ into a ‘B+’ with no effort. Also the rest of the class will appreciate you distracting him, because he does drone on if you don’t.”

Linda laughed. College was starting to sound a lot easier. Only partly joking, she asked, “Is there anyone who does give ‘A’s for something other than academic excellence?”

“Since you ask ... Professor Ngata teaches the African Studies courses. Those are very popular with the female students because he takes a ‘very personal’ interest in the more attractive girls each term. The word is, if you sleep with him, you pass, and he’ll give you an ‘A’ in all his courses if you let him get you pregnant. Personally, I think that’s doing it the hard way, but I hear he can be very persuasive. Last year a couple of girls caught a severe case of impending motherhood from him. Can you believe that they used to make you leave school because of that? Of course now the school clinic will give you the morning-after pill if you think you need it. If you choose not to go that way, they will refer you to an OB/GYN practice in town. The Student Center even has a day-care center in the basement so you can keep going to class after you have the kid. I know what you’re thinking – how is Professor Ngata still here if he’s knocking up the students? Well, first, he has tenure. Second is this is not illegal, just unethical. And third, none of his ‘victims’ will say a word against him. Oh listen to me! Here I am going on about sex stuff and I don’t even know if you two are virgins or not.”

“Not!” Kathy and Linda said, almost simultaneously.

“Well, that’s good. Redfern is something of a party school, if you haven’t heard. I don’t mean there are orgies every week, but it seems that someone is always having a party somewhere and people can get wild before the night is over. If you’re willing to let yourselves go and show-off a little, you’ll get invited to every party. One thing ... do not smoke anything some stranger passes to you at a party. There is some seriously strange shit going around and you could find yourselves doing a lot more than just taking your tops off and dancing on a table.”

“We’ll be sure to remember that,” Kathy said, remembering her own experience. “Oh, speaking of wild parties - where does everyone go for Spring Break?”

“Well, we’re not too far from the coast, so some people go to Merrinville or Arcla to blow off steam. For the last couple of years the Frats pooled their money and booked a resort southwest of here. A nudist camp called the Sun Club. Every heard of it?”

“Uh, maybe,” Linda answered, unsure how much she should admit knowing about the place.

“Can you imagine spending a whole week running around naked! Hooking up with guys on the spot? I went last year and it was awesome!”

“Really?” Kathy said, cautiously. “That sounds ... amazing. We’re kind of into nudity ourselves. Do you know of any places around here where we can run around in the buff ... without the sex, that is?”

“Nope. That place in Calaveras County is the only one I know of. But I think the Hiking Club may be able to point you to some clothing-optional trails up in the hills somewhere. Check with them about that. If you go, I bet their membership will double. And not just with guys.”

Kathy had a flash of insight into why Chrissie had been leaning so heavily toward sex in her description of Redfern College activities.

“Are you hitting on us?” She asked, with a smile.

“Totally,” Chrissie answered. “Now let me down easy if you’re not interested, because I think you two are utterly hot.”

Kathy and Linda looked at each other with eyes wide. Neither had actually considered having sex with a girl other than each other, but now that the subject had been brought up, neither could think of a good reason why not and both were more than a little curious about what it would be like.

“Can we call you later?” Kathy said. “Like after everything gets settled-down. Maybe the three of us can hook-up.”

“Sure. What? Both of you? At the same time? Wow! Listen, I’m not really a lesbian. I mean, not exclusively. It’s just something I ... I’m embarrassing myself, aren’t I?”

“No.” Linda said, firmly. “You’re not.”

Kathy took a different approach to reassuring Chrissie. She wrapped both arms around the girl and gave her a big hug. When she let go, Chrissie appeared flushed.

“Whooo!” Chrissie said, after a few seconds to gather herself. “I’ve had sex that wasn’t as good as that. Girl, you know how to hug.”

“It’s better naked,” Linda told her.

“I just bet it is! So, call me. OK?”

Kathy and Linda took a stroll through the Student Center, noting the offices for the ‘official’ student organizations, like yearbook and newspaper. They passed the snack bar, with it’s self-advertising smell of cheeseburgers, game rooms with well-used foosball, air hockey, pool and table-tennis tables, and a row of ATM machines with signs warning that a surcharge would be applied to all cash withdrawals made using out-of-network cards.

“I think I’ll see if I can get some pocket money.” Linda said, reaching for her credit card.

After finding which machine listed her card as being one it preferred, she inserted it into the slot and keyed-in her PIN. She touched the screen to select a cash withdrawal and entered 100. The machine whirred and disgorged five 20s. Linda took the money and stuffed it into a shallow pocket of her shorts.

“Don’t forget the receipt,” Kathy reminded her, taking the bit of paper from where it fluttered in the slot. She looked at it, started to hand it to Linda, then paused and looked at it again, the second time for longer, this time with a slight frown.

“Something wrong?” Linda asked.

“No. At least I don’t think so. This shows your transaction amount, which is normal. It also has a spot to show your available credit – you know, the most you can charge less whatever you just took out.”

“Oh? How much is it good for? I wouldn’t want to get too close to my maximum.”

“It says, ‘Unlimited’.”

“What?”

“Yep. ‘Unlimited’.”

“What does that mean?””
It means you could probably buy a car with this if you wanted. A very nice car.”

“It’s a mistake.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then it’s a test. To see if I’ll try to spend a lot.”

“Could be. But it’s more likely that someone just wanted you to have whatever you needed, and didn’t care about the money. Remember, Karl Bosch is a billionaire. You could go absolutely nuts with this and it wouldn’t change a single digit on his balance sheet.”

“Now I feel guilty.”

“Whatever for?

“From where I was standing, it looked like you enjoyed the heck out of it and so did he. That may be why he’s being so generous. He knows you weren’t faking it.”

“Oh. Still...”

“Still nothing. He did this because he likes you. Don’t think you weren’t good enough for what you got. He gets to decide that. Just like those Black guys at the Calaveras Sun Club get to decide how much to tip. Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy that.”

“I do! Oh, I do!”

“Did you ever feel like giving their money back?”

“Well, that’s not about the money. But no, I don’t. OK, I get your point. It’s just that it’s such a big difference!”

“In what, the money, or the size of the cock? Would you feel you earned it if you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I wouldn’t have done either if I didn’t think I’d enjoy it. I enjoyed it every time.”

“So the money doesn’t really have anything to do with it?”

“I guess not.”

“Then stop fretting over it. Let’s see what else is in this place.”

The next thing of interest was the campus book store, which took up a quarter of the ground floor of the student center. Although not yet open for business – according to a hand-lettered sign taped to the door, there was a considerable amount of activity as shelves and bins and tables were being stocked with textbooks and bundles of books that were probably assigned-reading for some classes.

Linda and Kathy returned to the main entrance and were about to take the stairs up to the second floor when they noticed a sign next to the stairwell indicating that the daycare center was downstairs.

“Let’s check it out.” Linda said, starting down the steps.

“Why?” Kathy asked. “That has nothing whatever to do with us. And won’t, unless we get very unlucky or very stupid.”

“Curiosity.”

“Good thing you’re not a cat. OK, we’ll have a look.”

The basement was dark because most of the ceiling lights were off, making the place seem a trifle eerie. To the right at the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway led off toward a set of double doors under a lighted sign declaring this to be the Hailey Carson Memorial Daycare Center.

“Wonder who Hailey Carson was?” Linda said.

“Almost certainly someone who gave them a big wad of money. That’s usually how these things work.”

“Oh. There’s another sign down there. Let’s take a look.”

The hallway led past a row of large tinted windows into a brightly-lit room furnished in colorful plastic furniture designed to engage and entertain children of a variety of ages. They could see toys suitable for toddlers up to kids of three or four. Everything was covered in block letters and numerals, giving the whole place a distinctly ‘educational’ ambiance.

When they reached the end of the hall, they could read the sign, which was hand-lettered in different colors on a white-board: ‘Assistants Needed. Minimum wage. Rewarding work supervising play and leading activities. We also need women who are capable and willing to participate in our new infant care program. See Mrs. Burkhalter.”

While they were reading the sign, the lights in the large room went out. They had just turned to go, when the door opened and a gray-haired woman wearing a blue smock came out.

“Hello there!” The woman said cheerfully, as though she were more used to talking to children. “How are you today?”

Before Kathy or Linda could answer, the woman forged ahead, “I’m Agnes Burkhalter, the Director. Who are you?”

“Uh ... I’m Linda Drake.”

“Kathy Wilson. We were just looking around.”

Agnes looked the two girls over and nodded, as though satisfied with something. She pointed to the sign by the door and said, “I hope you’ll consider helping with the children. After you get your schedules sorted, that is. We can always use an extra hand keeping the tykes in line. Children today can be so rambunctious. Too much sugar in their diets, I think. I really hope you will consider helping with the new infant care program. You both seem well-qualified.”

“Hunh?” Kathy said. “I don’t understand. Nether of us has any experience with babies.”

“That’s not the kind of qualification I meant,” Agnes said. “This new program is something our Psychology Department Head, Professor Sinclair, created. She has something of a bee in her bonnet about it and she got the President of the College to agree to try it here starting last year. I have to admit, the initial results are quite remarkable. I look forward to seeing the program expanded this year.”

“Sorry, I still don’t get it,” Kathy said.

“It’s all about pacifiers, you see. Those nasty plastic things we give infants to suck to train them to feed properly and to keep them occupied. Professor Sinclair thinks they are a hindrance to the child’s emotional development. She has a point. Babies should suck on the real thing, not something artificial.”

“Real thing?” Linda said, beginning to suspect, not certain she comprehended completely.

Agnes reached up a hand and put her finger on the tip of Linda’s left nipple where it was outlined by her thin top. “These things. We’d like for you to spend an hour or two a day with one of our young charges latched onto you. I assure you, it will be an emotionally-fulfilling experience. And there is a good chance that a couple of large-breasted young ladies like yourselves will find that your bodies respond to the stimulation.”

“Respond? How?” Kathy asked.

“You will begin to lactate, of course. Breast milk is what babies need to thrive. Anything else – artificial milk, or milk from some animal, just keeps them alive. They need the real thing, and the intimate contact involved in getting it directly from the source. I do hope you will consider helping us. Many young mothers unfortunately cannot provide an adequate amount of breast milk and are forced to fall back on formula. The two of you are the best candidates for filling that gap that I’ve seen since the program started.”

“We’re ... um ... flattered,” Kathy replied. “Really. But we’ll have to wait and see how things go before we commit to something like this. OK?”

“Of course, dear. Oh, did I mention that Professor Sinclair has agreed to give course credit for participating in the program? If you stay with it for the whole year, you could exempt one of your required Science electives. If you have time, perhaps you should go talk to her.”

“Oh!” Kathy exclaimed. “Well, in that case, we will certainly consider it.”

“You do that, dear. I’m here all day if you decide you want to help us out. Excuse me, I do have to run now. Give it some thought. You won’t be sorry. Goodbye.”

As soon as Mrs. Burkhalter was out of sight, Linda tugged on the knot in her t-shirt below her breasts that kept her it from hanging loose against her abdomen. With it free, she pushed the shirt up over her breasts and began massaging them.

“Me too!” Kathy declared, freeing hers from the knit top she wore so she could do the same.

“They started aching as soon as she mentioned having babies latched onto them,” Linda said. “I wonder what it would feel like?”

“Probably like this...” Kathy said, bending down to capture one of Linda’s nipples between her lips and sucking on it gently.

Linda moaned and took Kathy’s face in both her hands, holding her head to her breast as if it were a baby.

“Do you want to do this?” Linda asked, breathlessly.

“Not here,” Kathy said, switching nipples. “Let’s go back to the room.”

“What? No, I meant get involved with this program.”

“Right now, I would totally agree to it,” Kathy said. “Do me, now.”

Linda did her best to copy what Kathy had done to her.

“Yessss! I would agree to anything right now!” Kathy declared. “And that’s why we need to wait before we decide. But right now I need for us to go somewhere private.”

The dorm was still bustling with activity when they returned. Both elevators were being used to haul furniture to the upper floors, so the girls climbed the fire-stairs to the second floor. Fortunately, the door on their floor had been propped open for just such a contingency.

The stacks in the hallway had been reduced to piles of boxes and a few still-homeless items likely to be sold, trashed, or stuffed under beds to be forgotten until the end of the school year. After negotiating this ad-hoc maze and arriving at their own room, the girls shut the door behind them and immediately went about undressing each other, a process that they found much more fun than doing it themselves, as it allowed for spontaneous caresses and brief kisses. This was brief, and shortly the floor held one pair of blue bike-shorts, one t-shirt, one pair of denim daisy dukes, and a cropped knit top with spaghetti straps. Once nude, the girls fell into an embrace, where their bodies made promises to each other that they intended to fulfill once horizontal.