Chapter 1

Suzanne stepped off the bus and looked to her right. Another bus was slowing to a stop. She moved out of the line of kids that had followed her, waiting to see if someone she knew was on the bus. As she'd hoped, Roger got off, his book satchel over his shoulder.

She walked up to him, smiling. "Hello, stranger. Haven't seen you in ages."

He laughed. "It's good to see you, too. And it's only been a month."

They fell into step as they walked toward the school entrance. Their hands brushed, and then joined. "It seems like a lot longer than a month."

"I checked my calendar; almost 30 days to the hour. I wonder what changes they've made in the school?"

"Nothing too substantive. I liked it the way it was."

"I did, too. I'd heard rumors that they were doing something, though. It wouldn't surprise me. You always update programs."

Suzanne laughed. "Yeah, like they need it sometimes."

He shrugged. "You were in that class. Change requests come in all shapes and flavors."

"And a lot of them are 'feel-good' changes that are strictly cosmetic."

"True." He paused by the front door, looking around. Another bus had stopped, and a trickle of students were disembarking. "You'd think they'd change the way we get here."

"I like it. It's a tradition."

"If Claiborne has any traditions."

Her eyes sparkled. "The school has one that I've been thinking about for 30 days."

He laughed and held the door for her. "So have I."

They stashed their books in their lockers, and then filed through the internal door to the school, what some wit had called the 'air lock' for its resemblance to one. Their lockers had two doors, one on the outer side, one on the inside, and a movable partition that kept people from seeing out one door when the other was open.

They undressed quickly, and then, hand-in-hand, walked across the lobby to the first alcove. Roger found a spot for them. Suzanne lay back on the cushions, drawing him down next to her.

Their first kiss was slow and lingering, the kiss she'd been dreaming about for the entire 30 day break between classes. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his side. His skin was rougher than hers, and had a slight scent of the outdoors.

His mouth left hers, to kiss along her cheek, her jaw, and finally that sensitive place beneath her ear. From there he descended, little kisses that left warm pools of wet skin. He circled her breasts, finally homing in on her nips.

"Missed these," he murmured. His lips nibbled her peaks, sucking, pinching, twisting, making her push up into him, trying to give. He let go one, only to fasten on the other. Back and forth, he kept working her rapidly flushing skin, drawing her out until her peaks were hard points of aching need.

"Should I continue?" he murmured.

She felt between them, finding and taking his rigid cock. "Only with this."

He smiled, and kissed back up to her lips, letting her guide him. She nestled it against her slit, rubbing the blunt head up and down her slit, coating it with her juices. Then she pushed him down to her entrance.

"Your turn," she said, her eyes dancing with excitement.

He pushed. She caught her breath, feeling him sliding against her fingers, feeling him sliding into her. There was no feeling like it in the world, and she'd missed it for the last 30 days.

She was wet and ready, her body eager for their joining. He moved purposely, sheathing his length in her. She stopped breathing as he moved, remembering to gasp when she felt his balls nudge her bottom.

He adjusted his hands, taking a little of his weight, but cradling her with his arms. She responded by wrapping her legs around his thighs. She felt pinned in place, partly by his weight, but partly by his intruding cock and partly by the hungry lips that sought hers.

He began to move, a slow withdrawal, and a sharper return. She matched him, pushing up on him, trying to take everything he had. Her body felt heavy, light, shivery and burning up, all at the same time. She wanted to pull him entirely into her, not just his male length. It'd been 30 days since the last time they'd done this, and as nerves in her channel sent fiery little messages of pleasure deep into her, she moaned in her need and appreciation. She'd missed this more than she'd realized.

She tossed her head back and forth, trying to hold in the pleasure. She was burning up. Her middle had taken on a life of its own, clasping its welcome intruder, squeezing and massaging it unmercifully. Her whole attention focused there, and the rising tide that made it difficult to breathe.

He began to move faster, sharper, making her body shake with each thrust. She tried to draw him deeper, crying out with every push, gasping with each withdrawal. Everything was turned inward as she rose on that steep slope. She could feel it rising in her, and she fought to contain it, to maintain the pleasure, much as she wanted the culmination, too.

His arms tightened around her. She threw her head back, driving up into him, wanting, taking, holding on, and then soaring up to that critical point. For one eternal moment she hung there, then wave after wave swept through her, washing away the tension, and bringing the first total relaxation she'd had since the last day of school.

Roger was relaxing with her, his frantic motions easing and finally stopping. They grinned at each other from just a few inches away, then traded happy kisses.

"God, I missed that," she murmured.

"What? You don't have a stable of young studs to attend to your every need during the break?"

"I have the same stable of studs as you have girls in your harem."

"You have your hand, I have my fingers. And they aren't a substitute."

"And you told me about your mother."

Suzanne chuckled, the effort making her squeeze on his softening cock. That felt good, and she wanted to go again. But they had class...

"Yeah, my mother defends my virtue zealously. I'm a 'good' girl."

"You certainly are good." He squeezed her breast to make sure she got the joke.

"She'd have a coronary if she knew what happened here at Claiborne."

"As would my mother. My father would just think I should be a stud."

She sighed, and touched his shoulder. They had enough experience together that he got the hint and rolled off of her. She glanced down. His cock looked like a red, shrunken imitation of the thing that had plundered her sex only a few moments before.

"I suppose we should clean up a little."

"Oh, I don't know," she laughed. "Isn't one of the traditions around here attending class while reeking of sex?"

"One of the most honored."

Nevertheless, they made their way to the nearest restroom. Claiborne was a computer simulation in The Construct, and they could have sex time after time without running any risks, but they'd been taught to treat their experiences as if they were real. That meant peeing after sex to flush any germs, as well as showering in the unisex bathroom to get rid of any leftover juices and smells.

Finally, washed and dried, they made their way hand-in-hand to Home Room.

Suzanne found her seat—they were seated alphabetically by last name and each desk had a placard with their name on it—and settled back with a sigh. Three years ago, when she'd started at Claiborne, she would have been mortified to walk into a room naked. Now she did so with just an idle glance to see who was back for this term.

Mrs. Davis was their Home Room teacher. She came in, her long dark hair swaying in time with the jiggle of her breasts. She stopped at the front of the class, running her finger down the list of students displayed on the podium monitor there.

Suzanne hadn't told people, but she wanted to look like Mrs. Davis would if she lost a few pounds. The same breasts, large but firm with large areola and prominent nipples, the same flat stomach with the tiniest tuft of hair at the base, and the same legs, muscular but trim. They had the same color hair, though hers only brushed her shoulder. And Mrs. Davis had an oval face, not the lean one with prominent cheekbones that Suzanne sort of liked and sort of didn't.

"The school has added the following experimental feature," Mrs. Davis said. "Starting tomorrow, students may spend time in the outdoor module that Central Programming has been promising for more than two years. We have three sites right now. The first is a beach in Polynesia, the second a mountain resort, and the third a beach in the Caribbean."

"Question?" Roger called. "Are they existing locations, or are they made especially for the school." The unasked question was whether students would have to dress to visit these places.

"These are copies of existing places," Mrs. Davis said. "They are unique locations to Claiborne. And no, before you ask, you won't sunburn. You will have to be careful swimming, though. It is possible for you to get injured there, and we don't want that.

"One more thing before I finish with announcements, there is a time-compression feature built in. It's at 4:1, so the hour you spend there will seem like four hours. That's on top of the time compression we have here."

She thumbed something on the display in front of her. "Now there's one more thing. This term, each of you will have to spend time in the Claiborne-alternate. There have been lawsuits filed to allow parents to see what goes on here, and the parents are being routed to the alternate."

"Question," one girl said. "Does that include—"

"The Construct is routing them to an alternate that looks just like a regular school."

"You mean clothes and ... everything?"

She nodded. "Every student will have to spend at least one session in the alternate either today or tomorrow. It will help the system put you, or a cloned avatar, there so you can be visible."

"Next will come lawsuits about the curriculum," one boy said.

Mrs. Davis shook her head. "That's already being addressed. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. All right, you all have your schedules. I'll see you here tomorrow." She turned and walked away, and their schedules all appeared on their comp nodes.

Normally there were 30 minutes between each hour-long class. Not between Homeroom and the first one. There it was just 10 minutes, not enough to get up to anything. They still had a few minutes, so Suzanne went over her schedule:

1st Period: Differential Equations;

2nd Period: Physics 201;

3rd Period: History & Current Affairs;

4th Period: State-mandated P.E.;

5th Period: Computer composition;

6th Period: Advanced Topics;

It wasn't the roughest schedule she'd ever had. That had been the previous term when she'd had to take English and read a lot of older works. She had an idea of what she wanted to do with her life, and the Physics and Comp courses would help put her on that track. Her mother would pitch a fit; 'nice' girls didn't get involved with the sciences. She did wonder about 'Advanced Topics.' If her experience was anything to go by, that was a wild card. Anything was possible.

The two things that would strike people as unusual were the P.E. class, and 'History & Current Affairs.' They were in a computer simulation, and physical exercise was one of those things that would be pointless, but it was a required part of the curriculum, passed after worries about the 'obesity epidemic' from their parents' day. They went through the motions, just like you did with a lot of other mandated things.

The one that was sure to send parents into a towering rage was the 'History & Current Affairs' class. This wasn't the history that earlier generations had learned. For one thing, there was a lot of pretty heavy content in it. And for another, it didn't have the political slant that she remembered from before she'd started at Claiborne.

The classic example was logging. Back when she was in elementary school, they were told to empathize with all of the poor squirrels and noble firs. The latter, it was suggested, thought deep philosophical works that were forever lost when they were cut down.

Claiborne took the students through the anatomy of a tree. They measured things like electrical activity. And then they studied the economic practices of the timber companies, and how no timber company would willingly put itself out of business by clear-cutting. It didn't take too many brain cells before they realized that the teachers who had taught them about 'deep philosophical thoughts' didn't have a clue. Their economic theories—they'd had two terms of economics—were straight out of the 19th Century, the same theories Marx used, and had no basis in reality. The capper was the Russian economist from the 1980s who confessed that Marxist economic thought was inadequate to explain the operation of a lemonade stand. Instead they used Utility and Marginal Replacement Value.

All of that was a worry for another time. Instead she returned to her locker, got her things, and reported to Diffy Q.

When she'd started at Claiborne they'd had textbooks. The year before they'd been issued electronic tablets, and the material was downloaded directly there. They could write on them, download, upload, and all sorts of other 'loads.' And they were synched to a student's home comp so their work was readily available.

After class they had the first set of 'fun-and-games.' They had 30 minutes between each class, and they could study, prepare, read ahead, do homework, or screw their brains out. The latter was quite popular, and this being the first day of school, she did just that. He was some boy from a different class, and proved both vigorous and long-lasting. And they both made their next classes with time to spare.

Lunch at Claiborne was two hours. Nobody really needed to eat, but the state mandated it. In theory they had an hour, but the 30 minutes on each end added up to two hours. They staggered the lunch hour, partly because of the 'load' on the cafeteria, but partly because of the atrium.

This was an open area with a sliding roof—Claiborne took its weather from some place in the country nobody had figured out—and plenty of grass and trees. It was a popular place to talk, to eat, and to have sex. That happened at Claiborne, and after a while nobody noticed. Oh, they're screwing. Okay, moving on ... You might stop to watch if they were doing something you hadn't tried, but you generally didn't. She remembered one lunch when she had been working through a problem for economics, and not two feet away a couple was going at it like bunnies in heat. Or minks. Probably the latter; she'd learned those little rodents had a sex drive that was all out of proportion to their size.

She and Roger had staggered lunches. They shared part of the first hour and got reacquainted. She was feeling very mellow when he went off to class. She got a snack, and settled down to talk with some friends. On any time other than the first day of class she would have been hitting the books, metaphorically speaking. But today all of those naked male bodies was working its magic, and finally Tom, a friend from Diffy Q, found a comfortable place where they could spend some time.

Something about Claiborne put everyone in a perpetual state of horniness. The rumor was that there was some module in the core programming that ramped up the sex drive of everyone there. Someone said that was about a 50% increase for guys, and about a 400% increase for girls, at least at first. It wasn't that the girls needed any more arousing, but it also lowered everyone's inhibitions. The average girl had come from an environment where the emphasis was on not having sex, and they were now in one where you very much did have sex.

The ground in the atrium was a little spongy, about like a couch or a padded chair. He was lean and tall, and an absolute whiz with both differential equations and his tongue. He applied the latter to her breasts, and over the next few minutes worked his way down to her tummy. She sighed happily when he finally burrowed into her core. There was such a lovely feeling when a guy pushed his oral digit into her most sensitive place.