It's time to fuck around in Algorithms...

Your next class, Algorithms, is held in a small, dingy computer lab across campus. Luckily, campus is relatively tiny, so you arrive there in about five minutes. The class is "taught" by a part-time teaching assistant who obviously could care less about his job. What's his name? Brad? Brian? You really don't remember, and don't particularly care. You've heard rumors that he only has the position because he's the nephew of some high-up administrator at the college, and you can definitely believe it, as he certainly doesn't seem qualified to teach the subject, mostly regurgitating words from your textbook -- when he bothers to lecture at all, that is. Most of the time he sits at his desk while having all of you do machine problems.

Today will be different. As you enter the classroom, you turn to look at him, sitting at the front of the class. "Hey, Brad," you say.

"Brophy," he replies. Brophy? Really?

"Whatever," you retort. "Take a hike, I'm running this class today." Tap.

Brophy stands up from his desk and smiles. "Sure thing, Sam," he replies, putting on his coat. "Thanks for the assistance."

You smile wanly at him in response. "Don't mention it," you say, as he heads out the door. You take a seat at the teachers' desk at the front of the class, and watch as the various students trickle in. Some are a bit confused to see you sitting there, while others don't pay you any mind. You don't care; you're waiting for a particular individual to arrive, and before long she walks in.

She is beautiful. Her raven-black hair flows in waves around her head, falling nearly to her waist. Her skin is like velvet, the color of milk chocolate. She wears a pleated scarlet skirt that extends down to her knees, and below that, sheer black stockings and what appear to be sensible black flats. (You think. You've never really paid attention to shoes beyond their ability to protect your feet from pointy objects.) Above her waist, she wears a sleeveless white shirt, and a simple knitted pink sweater.

At first, she looks toward the back of the class, expecting you to be there. The two of you have developed this little ritual at the start of class: she'd look at you, smile, and nod, and you'd blush and look away. Then she'd sit down near you, towards the back of the room. It never really went further than that, as you were too shy to approach her. When she doesn't see you at your usual seat, she turns and looks in your direction, and her eyes widen just slightly in surprise when she sees you sitting where the TA would normally be. This time, you're the one that smiles and nods at her. "Hi," you say, "the normal TA had to leave, so I'm taking over the class today." Tap.

The look of mild surprise on her face dissolves into a wide smile, and she says, "Oh, okay! That was really nice of you."

"Yeah, it was," you agree. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Smita, she replies.

"Hi Smita, I'm Sam," you reply. "Please take a seat."

She walks over, not to her usual seat in the back, but to a seat at the front table, right in front of you. Finally, the bell rings, announcing the start of class. Most of the students have already logged into their machines, and have started working on problems, but you have other plans. You stand up, walk over to the door, and quietly close and lock it. Unlike the math room, the door here has no window in it, so you can be sure that you'll be uninterrupted. You turn and notice a few students looking you, appearing somewhat concerned and/or puzzled at what you just did. I'd better get this show on the road, you think.

"Everyone," you say, raising your voice and mentally activating the Manipulator, "Today I'll be leading the class. From now until the time the bell rings, you will all be extremely horny, and you will consider nudity and sexual activities to be a normal part of everyday life. Since this class is normally about algorithms, today's lesson will deal with various sexual techniques and positions. Once the final bell rings, you will all get dressed, and--" You stop suddenly, an idea crossing your mind, and you smile mischievously. You continue, "When you leave the class today, you'll remember everything that happened, but you'll keep it a secret from anybody else you encounter. You'll retain your increased sexual appetite and lack of inhibitions, and all of this will be completely normal to you."

Another brief tap on your arm confirms that the Manipulator broadcast to everybody, and you can already see the change in the students' postures and facial expressions -- excitement and lust beginning to flood over them -- but just to be sure, you say, "Please raise your hand if you understand everything I've just said." Every hand in the room shoots up, and you nod in satisfaction. "Okay, great. Let's get started."

You walk over to the front of the room, and stand next to the desk, surveying the assembled students. The first thing you notice is the two blonde girls from math class -- the ones in the pink skirt and ripped jeans, respectively -- sitting in the second row. How have I never noticed that before? you ask yourself, and conclude that you simply never paid much attention to your peers in the past. You're amused that they're about to have their second "special" lesson of the day, not even having remembered the first. Already, the two of them have their arms around each others' backs, absentmindedly running their fingers through each others' hair.

The rest of the students sit in the first row. Farthest left, an older man and woman who look about forty sit next to each other; the man has short black hair, graying at the temples, and a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, while the woman has a bobbed cut with bangs, dyed a striking reddish-violet color. Both wear glasses, and the woman also wears a simple gold necklace. Their clothes are pretty simple, the man wearing dark brown slacks and a white-and-blue checked button-up shirt, and the woman wearing a denim skirt and gray "pussycat bow" blouse. Both are rather heavyset, the man more in the paunch and the woman more in her hips and chest. The two of them are busy making out passionately with one another, and as they do so you notice that both wear wedding rings. You wonder if they're husband and wife.

Smita sits next to them, in the center of the front row. She stares at you, mouth just barely open, unmistakable desire all over her face. She has pulled up the hem of her long, red skirt and spread her legs wide, exposing a pair of satin pink panties with a little black bow at the top, and her left hand gently rubs the smooth fabric, directly below the bow. You can see the slightest hint of a darker spot where she rubs, her wetness soaking through.

To Smita's right is a young man with unkempt, sandy brown hair, and freckles that dust his cheeks. His hair is pretty long for a guy, with bangs that reach almost to his eyebrows, sideburns that nearly cover his ears, and a back that reaches down nearly to the collar of his T-shirt. Next to him sits a young woman who looks strikingly similar to him: she, too, has sandy brown hair of almost the same length, although it is considerably neater and better styled, with a bit of a curl to her bangs and the ends at the back of her head. Both the man and woman wear blue jeans, brown belts, sneakers and T-shirts... and both of them have unbuckled said belts and unbuttoned said jeans, and have their right hands squarely buried under their waistbands, gently rubbing themselves.

"Okay, people," you begin... and pause, struggling to figure out what to say next. Wait a minute, you think. What the fuck do I know about sex positions? I was literally a virgin until this morning! You look over the people before you, all of whom are busy groping themselves or each other, putty in your hands except you have no idea what to sculpt. What I need is someone more... experienced... At that, an inspiration hits you, and you speak again. "Who would like to volunteer to give some demonstrations?"

The older couples' hands are the first to go up. "Yes, you two," you say. "Please stand up and introduce yourselves, and then proceed to demonstrate your favorite sex position."

They both get up off their chairs and stand facing the rest of the class. "I'm Scott Crawford," the man says, "and this is my wife Eve. I'm a writer, and my wife is an artist, and recently we decided we'd like to learn what's involved in videogames, so we both enrolled in the class here together." As Scott talks, he unbuttons his shirt, showing a simple white cotton T-shirt underneath, while her wife unbuttons her blouse to reveal a sheer white bra with delicate lace trim. The bra holds her large, supple breasts, and light brown nipples with areolas the size of half-dollars are visible through the fabric. The two of them toss their shirts into a pile in front of them.

As Scott pulls his T-shirt over his head, his wife picks up where he stops. "Today we're going to demonstrate something we call the 'Knee Hug' position," Eve says, reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra. As she pulls it off, her breasts fall forward, sagging down a bit as they do so. She flings the bra onto the growing pile of clothes, and her hands move down to her waist to unbutton her skirt. "How many of you are aware of the 'reverse cowgirl' position?" Eve asks as she continues to undress. Every hand in the class goes up, including your own -- it's not exactly an obscure thing; you've seen plenty of pictures demonstrating it. "Well, this is similar," she continues, wriggling her hips as her skirt slides off. Underneath, sheer panties match the bra she removed earlier, and her large patch of downy pubic hair is visible underneath. To your absolute surprise (and the surprise of everyone else, from the looks of their faces), it appears to be dyed the same reddish-purple shade as the rest of her hair. This is confirmed as Eve pulls her panties down and off; the fluffy patch is like a vibrant sunset against the faint peach of her skin. Eve apparently notices everyone's shock, and laughs. "Yep," she says with an amused grin, "the carpet matches the drapes!"

By now, Scott has removed the rest of his clothing as well; he's not nearly as remarkable as his wife is, sporting a typical patch of curly black pubic hair, and a somewhat small-to-middling circumcised penis, perhaps about five inches erect. Eve kneels down next to him, staring at his cock, and says, "I want you all to make a note of this. This, right here, is average, and it's important that you know that. I know you all have more access to porn these days than in any other point in human history, and a lot of the time it gives you the wrong idea, with its guys that are seven and eight inches long or more, who can have sex for hours on end, cum absolute buckets, and then be ready to go again in five minutes. And yes, some people can, but most people are like my husband here, and that's okay." Scott nods, looking down at Eve, and blows her a little kiss.

You listen to Eve speak, absolutely enthralled by her talk. You started all of this shit just so you could have fun fucking all sorts of people, watching them fuck each other, having others watch you... you didn't expect that you would actually learn things! Like, for example, you were positive that Scott's dick there was on the small side, but it turns out it's perfectly normal; apparently your perceptions have been colored by the porn you look at. The rest of the class seems honestly interested as well; although they continue to fondle each other and themselves, their attention is squarely focused on Scott and Eve.

Eve stands up and continues to speak. "Scott and I are a bit larger than the average individual," she says, "which is one reason why we've chosen the position we'll be showing you today. Now, two other things you should know about larger folks: first off, girls, since we tend to have more fat around our thighs, it can be a bit harder to get that cock buried into your pussy. So it can be very helpful to have a good amount of water-based lube handy, to help guide it in." She chuckles a little. "Unfortunately, we don't have any available right now, but we're all so hot and ready that we're all dripping wet!" The women in the class let out curious mixes of giggles and moans in agreement.

As she talks, you start clearing things off of your desk, since it's about the only place that'll be available to use for their "demonstration" which everyone can see. If nothing else, the desk is plenty wide and deep -- not to mention sturdy, being an old piece of furniture made largely of steel -- so although it may be hard and somewhat uncomfortable, it'll be more than sufficient to support them.

"Secondly, boys," Eve continues, "the extra mass from that beer gut is gonna end up making your cock look smaller when you aren't erect. But once you're nice and hard again, I promise you that it'll be back to normal." You glance down at your own dick, straining against your pants. I guess I don't have to worry about that right now, you think, but who knows what might happen in ten, twenty years?

In ten or twenty years, with this thing on your arm, you'll be the leader of an unstoppable sex cult, your id replies.

Touche, you smirk inwardly.

You finish clearing the desk off, making sure it's wiped down and clean. "Okay, folks, we're all set here," you tell Scott and Eve. "Sorry that I don't have any pillows or anything to offer you."

"Don't worry, hun," Eve says, smiling, "we'll manage." Scott lays down lengthwise on the desk, facing upwards. Then he takes his right leg and bends it, so that his knee is in the air, with his foot planted firmly on the desk. Eve climbs up onto the desk, between his legs. Facing away from him, she kneels, putting one knee on either side of his bent leg. Bracing herself by holding onto Scott's knee, Eve slowly lowers her ass down over Scott's crotch, and Scott grabs his cock and positions it to glide smoothly into her pussy as she does so. She lets out a little moan and her eyelids flutter as he penetrates her. Once he's completely inside her, she begins to use her legs to slowly move up and down, using his knee to stabilize herself as she does so.

"You see... kids..." she says, breathing heavily as she fucks her husband, "it's... unh... easy to do... very comfortable... for larger people... ahhh... and as... we fuck... oh god... my clit rubs... against his leg... oh god, it's so fucking good..." She's moving a bit faster now, sliding up and down on his rod, her ass meeting his thighs over and over with a wet slap. She hugs his leg tighter, pushing it between her tits, causing her nipples to brush against it as she moves.

The entire scene is incredibly hot, and amazingly beautiful too, you realize. Every set of eyes in the classroom is locked on the couple in their steamy embrace, and the room is filled with sighs, moans, and whimpers of pleasure, the air heady with the perfumes of sweat and cum. Over in the right corner, the brown-haired girl and boy have pulled their jeans and underwear down around their ankles; the boy has two fingers buried in the girl's soaking wet cunt, and the girl's hand is wrapped around the boy's cock and is vigorously stroking it up and down. Next to them, Smita has removed her pink satin panties, her legs spread wide as she strokes her wet, shining pink pussy surrounded by dark brown labia and curly black hair. Beneath her, her red skirt sports a large, dark spot where the juices of her excitement have seeped into it.

The two girls who had been sitting in the second row, meanwhile, have come forward and taken Scott's chair in the front row so they can get better a view. Both are totally naked now, and the one with larger breasts -- you think she was the one wearing the pink skirt, but you aren't certain -- is sitting on the lap of the one with smaller breasts. The girl on top appears to be pushing something in and out of both of their pussies at the same time; after you stare at it a bit, you realize that it's some sort of U-shaped double dildo. The fact that it's there means that one of them was carrying it on their person before all of this began, which is extremely interesting to you. You wonder just how many other women on campus carry sex toys in their purses...

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud cry of pleasure. "Oh god, oh god, OH GOD, YES!" Mrs. Crawford cries out. Her legs clamp down around her husband's leg and she twitches as she climaxes. Simultaneously, Scott grunts, lifting his head up, and his leg muscles spasm as he shoots his load deep into his wife's cunt. Another cry, this one more masculine, gets your attention, and you turn back to the corner where you see the brown-haired girl bent over the boy's crotch, her mouth around his cock, capturing his cum as his orgasm hits while her own pussy and asshole clench and release, obviously cumming quietly herself.

Another cry now, alto and feminine, just to their left, as Smita's pussy squirts streams of liquid onto her chair and floor while she convulses, eyes rolled back in her head. And then two more soprano keens, almost harmonizing, muffled by each others' mouths until they break their deep kiss, as the blonde girls shake with their own paroxysmal excitement.

You, in fact, are the only person in the room who doesn't cum within those twenty-or-so seconds. Once again, you've been so intent on watching everything else that you're extremely aroused and stroking yourself, but are still essentially fully clothed. You actually laugh out loud at this realization; you aren't joined by anyone else, though, as they're all panting, eyes shut, riding the endorphin highs from their climaxes. On the desk, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford relax somewhat, and as Scott's flagging member pulls out of his wife's pussy, you see a small stream of cum dribble out of it and onto his pubic hair. Meanwhile, the brown-haired girl has pulled her mouth off of the boy's cock and apparently swallowed it all, but his flaccid dick is still slick with cum and saliva.

You clear your throat, and address the room. "Why don't we all take a ten-minute break before continuing?" you say, and are answered with weak smiles and indistinct moans of agreement.