Generation XXX

When Dr. Kelly Wyndam later thought back on what happened, she decided that everything started when Clarissa Bonner wore that t-shirt to class. The red one that barely covered her tits and had the words “Deep Throat Life” written in white block letters on the front. Kelly tried to quietly talk to the girl before class started. Really, she did. But the girl refused to cover up, or go change, or anything.

“It’s about seizing the day,” Clarissa protested. “Not enough people do that, you know? And it’s even more important now with everything going to hell.”

“All good sentiments,” Kelly said, doing her best to keep her voice low in order not to embarrass her student in front of the class, “but I’m just not sure the exact phrasing is appropriate for a college classroom.”

“Why not?” The girl seemed genuinely confused. Then, making zero effort to keep her own voice down, she asked, “Wait, is it because of the ‘deep throat’ part?” Kelly looked around nervously, but none of the other students settling into their seats in the classroom seemed to notice anything strange. “I mean, I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, I forget that sometimes older people aren’t as comfortable with that stuff. But I love my body, and what I can do with it, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Kelly looked up at the clock. It was just about time for her lecture to start. She didn’t want to deal with this right now. So she sighed, walked over to the lectern, and started that day’s edition of Sociology 101.

But now that she had noticed it, she started seeing more and more of the girls she called on in class wearing what she felt to be unusually daring outfits for a college lecture. Luna Antonelli had on a spaghetti strap halter that revealed a truly impressive amount of cleavage, while Hailey Bell might not have been wearing pants at all, just a long T-shirt. And while they all had the right answers when called on, she noticed them spending an awful lot of time staring at the boys in the class, sometimes while doing things like provocatively chewing on the end of a pen.

After class, Kelly went to the restroom (it was mixed gender, the college having switched after pressure a few years earlier). She sat on the toilet, scrolling through her phone, then opened an email from the Journal of Sociology. They were soliciting papers again. She was zero for four on getting her submissions accepted. One of these days, she was going to need to get something published, or she was never going to get tenure.

That was when two sets of feet, accompanied by the sound of giggling, entered the stall next to hers, a boy and a girl. Shortly thereafter, the girl’s shorts fell around her ankles, closely followed by her panties. Kelly watched the girl’s sandal-clad feet turn around, the boy behind her. Then the rhythmic banging began.

A part of Kelly’s brain told her to just get up and walk out of the restroom, but she couldn’t get her legs to work in that moment. So she stayed there, while in the stall next to her the young couple went at it like bunnies.

“Harder,” the girl moaned. “Fuck me harder!”

“Tell me what you want, whore,” the guy growled.

The entire row of stalls was shaking. Kelly just sat there listening, with her own underwear around her ankles. A part of her was turned on by this, she had to admit. Who wouldn’t be?

“I want you to fuck my whore pussy!” the girl bellowed. “I’m your fucking whore!”

Surely people outside the restroom could hear this. But maybe the couple wanted it that way.

“Shit baby, I’m gonna come,” the guy groaned.

“I want you to come in me,” she said, her voice quieter. “I want all your fucking cum. Give me all your fucking cum!”

Then their yelling became incoherent for several seconds, which was followed by several more seconds of heavy breathing. The girl pulled up her panties and shorts with a giggle, then the couple left.

Immediately after she heard the door to the restroom close behind them, Kelly got to her feet, pulled up her own slacks, and followed them out. She looked around at the lounge area of the academic building, trying to see if she could find out what the pair looked like. She couldn’t really tell. It was a warm day (most days had been warm lately) and a majority of the girls were wearing very short shorts and sandals, just like the one in the stall. Nor did anyone seem to have been particularly perturbed by the vocal stylings coming from the restroom.

She did see the back of one blonde girl as she walked over to a group of her friends at one of the small round tables near one end of the lounge. As she approached, all of her friends laughed and began to clap. The girl took a mock bow, then sat down with them.

Kelly didn't consider herself a prude at all. She’d had what she considered a fairly varied sex life in her younger days. She had lived with two partners in her twenties, one man, one woman, and had her share of one night stands. She guessed that made her bi, though she had never particularly felt the need to label such things, or really think about them much at all. But now she was 38, single, and had finally landed the professorship she’d been working toward for the last couple decades. Sex wasn’t really a big priority for her. If she was honest, it never really had been.

Not that she couldn’t have gotten any if she had wanted it, or at least that’s what she told herself. She was tall, kept herself reasonably in shape, had long straight black hair that she thought framed her face well, used a prodigious amount of moisturizer, and had what she believed was a pretty good figure. Sure, she dressed mostly in pantsuits that were designed to be more professional than flattering. But she liked to think that if she walked past a construction site in an old movie, she would get at least some hoots and hollers. Right?

The point being, she wasn’t going to judge anyone for their proclivities, nor did she consider herself enough an expert in the area to do so. Still, all this was weird, right? Weird enough that she brought it up to a couple of the other professors while eating her pathetic sandwich in the faculty lounge a few hours later. “It” being the revealing clothing in class. She left out the part about the bathroom.

“Don’t get me started,” Joe Davis, another newer professor from the literature department, said. “It’s like they have no shame whatsoever. Just yesterday, a boy raised his hand and told me that he didn’t understand why the female characters in the book we were discussing didn’t just loosen up and put out. It was Sense and Sensibility!”

“I’ve been grading the personal essays for my Creative Writing course,” Jenny Fitzgerald, a spindly, aging hippie with white hair and reading glasses, commented. “They’re fairly well written, pretty typical for freshmen, but I’d say three quarters of them have graphic sex scenes. I can’t fail them all! I mean, there are actually some pretty creative uses of imagery.”

“It’s all this pornography,” Gerald Wilkins put in from the next table. He was the very much the stereotype of a crotchety professor who can say anything he wants because he has tenure, down to the tweed smoking jacket. “That’s what they called them on the cover of Time last month. 'Generation XXX.' Obscenity’s taking over the culture.”

“You’ve been saying that since the Lewinsky Scandal,” Fitzgerald pushed back.

“And it’s kept being true!” he insisted.

“Hey, I’ve been in this job five years now,” Davis said, “and until this semester I’d managed never to get hit on by a student. It’s happened three times in the first three weeks of this one, two girls and a guy.”

“They wanted you to change their grades?” Wilkins seemed shocked.

“What grades? We’re three weeks into the semester,” Davis replied. “I think they just thought I was handsome.” He saw the looks the others were giving him. “I didn’t do them…it, OK? I’m a professional here.”

“OK, but isn’t this a tale as old as time?” Kelly argued. “I mean, every generation thinks the one after them is nuts, right? You know what Boomers said about us Millennials, after all.”

“That you’re a bunch of whiners who are obsessed with avocado toast?” Wilkins suggested.

“Pretty much,” Kelly agreed.

But the discussion gave her an idea. That evening at her on-campus faculty housing, she sipped a glass of zinfandel while doing some research on her laptop on the topic of changes in sexual attitude among the generation now entering college. Numerous news outlets seemed to agree the trend was real. The young people these days weren’t just having more sex, the sex they were having seemed to be far less vanilla. Sex in public, anal sex, threesomes, moresomes, partner switching, all of their popularity was on the rise. She was very surprised to see that 75% of girls ages 18 to 22 had reported having had sexual relations with other women, a skyrocketing number from a few years before. Even beyond that, large percentages of that age group seemed to have no concept of shame about sex or their bodies, and viewed those who did as pitiable prudes.

So the facts were there, but nobody seemed to have any real ideas about the causes. First on the list, of course, was pornography. Generation XXX, as the advertisers apparently insisted on calling them, were the first generation to spend their entire sentient lives with pornography all over the internet, and they loved it. The number of respondents to surveys who claimed to be addicted to porn was truly insane. The affects this had on them were mostly unstudied. Porn wasn’t real life, Kelly had always been told, but the new generation seemed to respond, “Well, maybe not for you."

Perhaps more practically, there were the recent advances in medical science. In the past five years, medications had become widely available which had essentially made STDs a thing of the past, and a new version of the Pill had been released that got rid of most of the previous side effects. Not only that, new government regulations had **** most health insurance companies to cover these ****. Kelly was on them herself, and she hadn’t even really considered having sex in six months. When the girl in the bathroom had let her partner come inside her, it likely carried little to no risk of pregnancy or infection for her. Just as the advent of the Pill in the sixties had started the initial “sexual revolution,” these **** seemed to have started a new one.

A third, more depressing theory was that the hedonism of today’s youth was a reaction to nihilism about their prospects. Climate change was accelerating, politics appeared to be irredeemably corrupt, there were several wars going on around the world, and everything seemed to just keep getting worse. Kelly had spent her teenage years anxious about what her future would be. Polling showed that Generation XXX was fairly convinced that their futures were nonexistent. So why not enjoy themselves while they could?

All of this, however, seemed to Kelly to be entirely without any real basis. The various authors were just guessing. And most importantly, none of them seemed to have actually spent a lot of time with the young people they were writing about. Kelly decided that this trending news topic had created an opening for a sociological field study into its causes. This could be her ticket to finally getting published.

The main catch was, she didn’t have a real idea where to start. If this was going to work, she would need to spend quite a bit of time observing Generation XXX in its natural habitat, so to speak, but she knew herself well enough to know that she had no idea where that might be. Fortunately, this was not exactly an unusual sociological problem. Kelly just needed to get some help.

She posted a notice that night on the college’s online message board, seeking a Research Assistant for sociology field work, the main difference from the usual such posting being that she was looking for a Freshman. She wanted someone as “hip” as possible, or whatever word the kids today would use. Hopefully there were some young, ambitious sociology students out there looking for resume padding.

Sure enough, she received her first application later that day, from an Emma Kozlowski. She knew the girl, she usually sat in the back of Sociology 101 and kept quiet unless called on. Pretty, though. Her resume was as impeccable as Kelly could have asked for. High school class valedictorian, National Honor Society, even a volunteer stint at Habitat for Humanity. After waiting ten minutes to make herself seem not quite so ****, Kelly emailed the girl back and set up an interview for the following morning.

Emma walked in to Kelly’s office the next day dressed in a form-fitting red dress that was within the realm of acceptable interview attire, but somehow just a little shorter than Kelly would have dared. It also showed off just a hint of cleavage from what were clearly her very perky, round breasts. She shook Kelly’s hand and sat across from her at the desk, legs crossed.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, Dr. Wyndam,” Emma said. “I know it’s not normally something first-year students get the chance to do, so I’m really excited.”

To her shock, Kelly immediately recognized the girl’s voice. It was the girl from the restroom, the one who… Actually, this gave her an idea to sort of feel this person out. She was going to need to get used to being up front about these things if she wanted to get anything real out of this paper, after all.

“You know, I just realized where I remember you from,” Kelly said, doing her best to sound casual. “Did you have sex with a boy in the restroom of Bagley Hall two days ago?”

Emma blinked at her a couple times, then a huge grin appeared on her face. “Oh my God, were you the one in the stall next to us? That’s so random.”

“You’re not worried that I won’t want to work with you after that?” Kelly asked.

“I don’t see why I should be,” the blonde girl replied casually. “I was honestly sort of surprised you stayed. Did you touch yourself? I mean, I know it’s not really my business, I’m just kinda curious.”

Kelly didn’t respond to that question, but she was getting a feeling Emma was a good fit for what she had in mind. She went over the idea and explained approximately what she was looking for. Emma turned out to be really excited about the whole thing.

“I love it! So many old people, no offense, old people don’t get me.” That was a shock, Kelly thought wryly. “Get us, I should say. Anything we’re able to do to bridge that generation gap would be great.”

“Let me ask you this,” Kelly said. “How often do you consume pornography?”

“I mean… that’s kind of a hard question to answer, because I watch it kind of all the time? I’m a total porn addicted slut, if I'm being honest. Most of the girls I know are. And all of the guys, to be clear.”

“You don’t think it’s, I don’t know, a little demeaning to women?”

Emma sat forward in her chair, clearly passionate on this topic. “That is such a misconception. You ever watch any porn? I'm talking about straight porn, I mean. The woman is pretty much always the star. The guy is just like a dick attached to some other stuff. And the stuff some of those girls can do… I wouldn’t be here majoring in Sociology if I could suck cock like that, I’ll tell you right now.” She paused. “Again, uh, no offense.”

"But... you were valedictorian," Kelly prodded.

The blonde girl looked at her blankly. "What does that have to do with it? Valedictorians can't be porn stars?"

Kelly looked at her for a long beat, then put her hands on the desk and said, “Well, I think I’ve heard enough. When can you start on this?”

“I mean, now,” Emma replied, her grin reappearing. “I have so many ideas. This is gonna be great!”

Author’s note: Thanks everyone for checking out my new story. This first chapter was longer to try and set up the story, I anticipate doing shorter subsequent chapters. I wanted to do something a little more sort of character-driven and down to earth than my last couple stories, but there will definitely be a higher percentage of hotness going forward, I promise!