Let out her wild side, then go to class.

I give her an inaugural offer. "Do something you want to do."

"I don't even want to be naked," the high schooler shouts, hands against her thighs.

I frown. An indignant tone is creeping into her words. I watch her hands move to cover her privates as she looks around worrisomely, probably moreso at the prospect of anyone she knew seeing her like this than anything. How self-conscious. To save ourselves both some grief, I decide to ease her worries.

"Yes you do," I correct. "You like showing off your body. You like showing your body off a lot." I pause. "And everyone understands that you do, and totally accepts your decisions."

A cloud lifts from her brow. The girl's hands leave their stations and she flips her hair from her front shoulder. Below, her full body is now gladly exposed and she takes a casual stance, not bothering to stop my eyes.

"Oh, right," she backtracks with a chirp, remembering I am there, breast jiggling under her collar bone, "I was just messing with you. Of course I wanna be naked. What did you want me to do again?"

"Have a bigger ass," I state simply.

"Okay." Without prompting, she looks down. Then she slaps her asscheek, causing it to bubble out with a gratifying voom. She moves her head over her other shoulder. After another slap to the other cheek, the other side grows an extra layer as well in similar fashion. Her cute butt is now sexy enough to smother oneself in.

"Act crazy," goes up next in my understated demand list.

"Sure." She bends her knees and back, then scratches her armpits. Her lower lip is folded over her upper one and blurts out some indistinguishable creole. "Burrburrburrburrburghhbrurgh! Booga boo ha mamamamalama!" I step back for effect. I doubt I'd even seen druggies this rabid. Her wide eyes looks like a naked tribeswoman who'd just been lightning struck, and her ass, well, her ass still looks great.

And so do those flailing boobs.

She passes me by mid-thought. I hear a yelp. When I turn, she has just placed another girl's notebook in her teeth and eaten one of her science homework papers. The girl only curses her luck, not questioning the naked, crazy high schooler she used to know as her old classmate Molly from Algebra being naked and acting mentally disturbed, and kneels down to re-collect her things.

Looking at her, I say, "Bounce your ass against your calves. Don't stand up." Eventually, the girl collects all her papers. Then, instead of unfolding herself, she lifts her butt, then slams it against the back of her legs. She repeats this, doing it twice and thrice, her skirt scraping the pavement in silence even once I leave her company. She is not troubled with the activity, after all. But at that rate certainly isn't going to go anywhere, either.

A "whoa!" resounds from the distance. Molly was now dryhumping a teacher and licking his cheek. Her hair shook as she buried her mouth into his ear and went "Wobbawobbawobba-HOOM!" then kissed down his neck. Everyone looks on curiously, though without making any attempt to stop her. I look on at them looking on, stifling a laugh.

Okay, I sigh, let's bring things back down to Earth.

I turn around and snap my fingers, stepping into the hallway of my class building. In a flash, Molly is re-dressed outside and walking down the center of the campus. She passes by the teacher she had been humping not a minute before who nods hello politely. She responds in kind before pulling her head back over her phone, texting her best friend about Zac Efron or something or other. Meanwhile, the other girl just outside the building smooths her skirt and stands up from her squat, and continues walking towards the junior student office. Returning to her original route like nothing had occurred on the way to raise any cause for concern. Which, technically, was more or less true.

I stride down the hall, and see a group of students gathered around the door. They were all students waiting for the bell to ring.

"Hey John!" I look for the voice that called me, and notice Arielli waving in my direction. She was a cute girl with a brown bob that actually hung out with us, sometimes even played video games. Her outburst causes the other heads to turn. The guys all offer their greetings.

"Hey man," saluted James, a tall skinny kid who always wore these large oval-shaped glasses.

"'Sup," said Nick. His shorter stature and chocolate skin provided much-needed variety to our immediate circle.

Rudy gives me a high-five after chugging down half his water bottle. I halfheartedly return it. "Good morning, fruitster!" He gives me a look. "And hey, I was wondering if you happen to know why that Brandy girl has been asking about me?"

"Hey guys," I ignore him and come to a stop. As I look them over, I have another dirty thought. I wonder if I should change a few things about our upcoming period. It was just a boring history class, bound to be as monotonous as usual, with the same old ad-verbatim lecture by Mr. Marks. Or, maybe I could just play around with Arielli.

I turn to the girl, who was in a casual tee and jeans that did nothing to make her look particularly more gorgeous. But her cuteness was what endeared us to her, not her curves. I say, "Arielli, how big are your boobs?"

"34C," she reveals without hesitation. The other guys nod, some of them even showing more direct interest in the subject.

"How often do you masturbate?" I continue.

She looks up in thought. "Oh, I don't know... probably two times a week... and then go completely cold the next, and then, you know, repeat. It really depends on -- "

"How much you interact with me and the body I have to offer in real life, right?"

A blush instantly covers her face. Her foot stubs the carpet below us as her eyes suddenly look away quickly from mine. "Y-yeah...."

"You don't masturbate about anyone or thing else but me, don't you, Arielli?"

"Y-yes." Her voice is a whisper now. If she was cute before, she was adorable now.

Before I could continue, the bell rings. Everyone converges, sweeping us into an automatic beeline into the classroom, whose door is subsequently opened. "Alright class," Mr. Marks' excuse for a greeting swathes over our ears as everyone carelessly ignores him, "buckle in and let's get started. We got quite the lesson prepared for you guys today..."

I take my seat, and look around. There are definitely a handful of pretty girls around. Arielli, meanwhile, has one hand cradling her chin gazing adoringly at me from across the room, one hand perched between her thighs in a futile attempt at subtlety. I smile. Surprisingly that was more of a turn on than anything since this morning's shenanigans with my sister, the notion of a friend of mine who'd shown no ribald interest in me before being infallibly aroused by my physical presence.

I return my attention to the front of the class, and feel a shadow already cast over the prospects of an exciting day. As Mr. Marks begins writing on the board, my thoughts take a creative turn.