Chapter 2

Monday Afternoon

Lunch was a welcome respite from the stares and whispers. Carl walked with me from class, and Karen and Stephanie met me at the cafeteria door and the three of them escorted me through the line. We found a table and sat together. With Carl on one side of me, Stephanie on the other and Karen directly across from me I felt protected. All three of them had endured a week of nudity, so they knew what I was going through.

The protective formation wasn't anything new. Carl and I had done it for Stephanie the week before, and I had done it for Carl during his week, so this was sort of a quid pro quo, I guess. No matter, I was grateful, and I told them so.

It also made me realize I was joining a very select sorority-fraternity of students in the Junior class who had spent a week going to school naked. Eventually it would expand to include a significant percentage of the class, but so far it was a very small, select group.

It was actually shy one member, probably the one who needed it the most.

Poor Freschetti. He had to eat at the training table. I could see his hairy bulk hunched over his lunch tray, obviously suffering the jibes of his teammates. He was learning what it was like to be the outsider the hard way. Those jocks, with all their testosterone - they were pack animals, like wolves, and could be pretty cruel. The alpha male was vulnerable and they took advantage of it.

I ached for him.

Karen, Carl, Stephanie and I talked about inconsequentials - if you could apply that term to Freschetti - along with teachers and classes. Meanwhile, I was still dealing with an incredible tangle of emotions and sensations. I felt so vulnerable! I was embarrassed, of course, too, but there was another issue that was even more scary.

I wanted to ask them if it had made them horny, but I was too ashamed.

Oh, obviously it had made Carl horny. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten all those cum showers, would I? And Karen, I suspect, had yielded to her horniness on the last day, letting herself be gang banged. I was too embarrassed to ask her, though. I didn't really know her well, but we shared a bond now.

But what about Stephanie? I'd never thought of her as a sexual person. She was just my plump friend. She'd never really had a boyfriend or a date, until Carl had gotten her together with Jerry Wilson at the dance. Apparently things hadn't really clicked between them, because I hadn't seen them together since, though she'd had a good time, she said.

Of course the conversation drifted around to The Program, as we were all now calling it, complete with capital letters.

"Has anyone asked to feel you up yet?" Karen asked.

I blushed. "No," I admitted. "Though there've been a few pats and pinches in the hallways."

"What will you do if they do?" Stephanie asked. I'd never asked her what she'd done, and I'd not seen anyone do it to her in the hallway.

I was blushing furiously now. "I don't know," I confessed.

"Let them," Carl suggested.

"You want me to?" I was a little hurt that he wasn't more possessive, I admit.

"It's part of the program," Karen reminded me. "It's a not unreasonable request."

"Oh." I knew she was right, but still... "I'd rather not talk about it right now," I said, stifling that conversation and they went on to other matters.

Meanwhile, I was squirming inside with - well, with lust, simple lust. Thinking about letting some boy feel me up, right there in the hallway only stoked my horniness. If I didn't get some relief, I was really afraid I might do something desperate!

Then Carl rested his hand on my thigh, and I knew he understood. When he hesitated, I took matters into my own hands. Or, more accurately, I placed them in his by spreading my legs and moving his hand up my thigh to my crotch.

His hand cupped my cunny, and it was all I could do to keep from leaning against him. Instead, I dutifully forked another bite of school ravioli into my mouth as his fingers massaged my pussy, triggering a hot flush of pleasure.

Believe you me, considering the school ravioli, that was a welcome distraction for more than one reason!

His finger sneaked between my labia and he felt how wet I was. Bless him, he didn't say anything, nonchalantly answering some question from the guy across the table from him as he worked his finger into my sopping cunt.

I wriggled my hips a little bit, and his finger slid deeper into my hot depths. With my free hand, under the table, I directed his moves, pressing on his hand to squeeze my clit as he wiggled his finger in my hole.

Oh, it felt good!

Was I becoming a slut? Here I was in the school lunchroom, being masturbated by my boyfriend! Since the homecoming dance I was like a kid with a new toy! I hadn't known how good sex could feel until that Saturday night with Carl.

Now I wanted to feel those delicious waves of ecstasy again and again, as often as possible. I don't know how many times I had masturbated since then, by myself! Carl and I had gone to the movies again, twice, and necked and petted up a storm then and even after school once, but we'd still held back from Doing It, too scared to venture further down that path.

My lust rising, I pushed down on Carl's hand rhythmically, crushing my clit against my pubic bone. Carl obliged by sliding a second finger into me, and wriggling them deep inside me. It was all I could do to keep from thrashing and moaning aloud as my pussy went into spasms.

Remember that scene in the movie "When Harry Met Sally" with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal in the café - you know, the one where she fakes an orgasm at the top of her lungs? It was all I could do not to scream like she did. But the effort not to was almost as dangerous as stifling a sneeze! I could have strained something important! For a few moments my eyes went out of focus. When they came back in I was looking at the boy sitting across from Carl and I realized I hadn't quite gotten away with it.

Stirring from his paralysis, the kid shoveled in the forkful of food that had made it half way to his mouth before my cumming, then chewed and swallowed, desperately reaching for his milk to wash it down. After avoiding suffocation by ravioli, he grinned, and winked at me, while I turned a flaming red.

Stephanie patted me on the thigh herself, and Karen had a knowing smile on her face! So much for my secret orgasm! I could only hope the whole lunchroom didn't know.

As my body descended from its high, Carl extracted his fingers from me, sniffed them like a fine cigar, and then sucked my juices off them, shooting me a sly grin as he did. I didn't know if I wanted to punch him or hug him, so I just gave him a nudge with my elbow as I tried to regain my composure before heading off to my drawing class.

Art class was my one easy course, my break from the academic day. I didn't have to think like I did in Chem or math, or memorize like I did in French. I could let my feelings take over, guiding my hands as I sketched with charcoals or pastels. It gave my brain a welcome respite.

Oh, I wasn't any Rembrandt, but at least I could produce something that resembled what I was looking at.

Only this time, when I walked into the studio, I was surprised to see that, instead of the usual table on the podium in the front of the art studio, usually with a still life like some flowers or a bowl of fruit on it, there was a wooden stool.

I got my art smock, welcoming the opportunity to cover myself, assuming it was a legitimate protective garment, while I studied the setup, moving to my easel.

Light spilled on to the podium from the skylight and the floor to ceiling windows that formed the outside wall of the semi-circular room. The easels with their stools for the students, their big tablets of drawing paper, faced the podium.

The only other things out of place were two full-length mirrors on stands, set so they wouldn't block any of the student's view of the stool, but so they would reflect whatever - or whoever - was on it.

Everything focused on that stool.

Uh oh, I suddenly thought. This does not look good.

That depends on how you define "good" my evil twin argued lasciviously.

I felt a little frisson of fear and anticipation as the other students took their places at their easels. They were chattering, of course, and shooting glances at me. It made me tug uselessly at the too short smock that was all that was between me and them.

It was as if they already knew what was coming

As if I didn't! I flinched when the teacher, Mr. Kelly, called my name.

"Miss Finch, if you please?" He didn't say anything more, simply gestured to the stool.

Biting my lip, I took the bit between my teeth, removing my smock and letting it drape over the stool by my easel. Without even really thinking about it, I toed off my loafers, and dragged my socks off, too. How many nudes have you seen painted wearing penny loafers and socks, after all?

Feeling like some kind of marionette, I made my way to the front of the room, stepping up on the podium. The stool came up to my belly button, so I had to sort of climb up on it. It was one of those swivel thingies, so it tried to turn with me as I managed to squirm my ass on the cold, hard seat. Bracing my feet on the rungs, I hunched there self-consciously.

"That's not a very attractive pose," Mr. Kelly observed dryly, stroking his little goatee.

I blushed. "I'm sorry. How do you want me?"

"Why don't you try standing on the floor, and just bracing yourself against the stool," he suggested.

Awkwardly I climbed off the stool and tried to follow his directions, but with the stool hitting me just below the small of my back, it didn't work very well.

"Hmmm," he mused. "Let's try this." He dragged over a low riser, as if he'd anticipated the problem. With that under my feet (and getting on it gave him a very good look at my charms) I was raised just enough so the seat of the stool was even with my butt.

"Now, lean back on your hands," he suggested, "and perhaps raise one foot to the bottom rung on the stool."

I tried to follow his directions, my eye caught by my reflection in one of the mirrors.

I was so naked! Not even shoes, only that simple gold cross, and my glasses, of course. My nipples were hard little points on my perky breasts - that's how Carl liked to describe them - perky - usually just before his lips closed around one of my aching titties.

The thought gave me a rush in spite of myself. Oh, God! Everyone was looking at me, all the girls, all the boys. I had no secrets from them. The boys were all staring at my cunt - the angle of my leg did nothing to hide it from half the class, of course, since they surrounded me.

"Arch your back a little," the Mr. Kelly suggested, his hand warm on my spine as he pushed gently there. "Move this foot a little this way."

He exposed me even more.

"Straighten this leg." His hand was hot on my thigh.

"Let's let your hair down," he suggested, extracting my pony tail from the scrunchy. His hands spread my hair over my shoulders, and I wished it were long enough to cover my breasts, but it wasn't.