Experimental Education

This place is certainly a change from St. Mark’s, Chrissy thought as she strolled across the lawns of the Mount Verdant School for Talented Youth. Catholic school had not been right for her. The rigid bell schedule, the cold stone façades of the buildings, the even stonier visages of the nuns—all these things had made Chrissy miserable. One year in such a prison had been far too long.

Mount Verdant on the other hand, felt like home. She’d come here for a summer program, and come August had decided to stay for a semester, to see if she liked it. Though it was only the first day of classes, Chrissy was sure she’d found a new home. Her orientation trip had been fantastic—funny counselors, sunrise hikes, swimming holes that belonged in movie sets…

"Hey, Chrissy!" called a voice, interrupting her reverie. It was Jeremy, a boy who’d helped outfit the orientation camping trips. She was surprised he even knew her name.

"Hey," she called back, waving at him across the lawn.

"How you making out?" he asked.

"Okay," she shouted back.

"That’s good," he said, and the smile that lit his face showed he meant it. St. Mark’s boys weren’t half as friendly, Chrissy thought. "Listen, you better hurry," Jeremy was yelling. "Class has almost started."

"Oh God," Chrissy shrieked, starting to run. But Jeremy caught up to her, and placed an arm on her shoulder, stopping her mad flight.

"Relax, it’s the first day," he said. "No one’s ever on time. Here, we’ve both got classes in the Science Barn; I’ll walk you there."

"Thanks," Chrissy smiled shyly. She’d been paddled—among other things—for being late at St. Mark’s, so the reflex to dash from class to class was pretty overwhelming. But here no one seemed to care if you lost five minutes or so along the way. It was refreshing but confusing; she almost missed the comforting order St. Mark’s had provided.

And the boys! Chrissy thought, lapsing into her earlier train of thought, were like none she’d ever met. They all talked philosophy or grew plants or played Ultimate instead of football. There was something unique about each of them; they didn’t blend together in an anonymous, blue-blazored mass like her former schoolmates. She wondered idly if Jeremy had a girlfriend. If not, maybe she’d fit the bill…

She slipped a little ahead of him, putting a little extra spring in her step, hoping to draw Jeremy’s attention to her young body. Her shoulder-length blond hair glinted gold in the sun. Her blouse, silk-white and short-sleeved, had gotten a little too tight over the summer, but she kept wearing it because she loved how it felt—like she was bound in fine sheets. From behind, she knew her bra-strap was just barely visible—if Jeremy dared, she knew he could trace it with his finger along her smooth back. And then her skirt, a buttercup yellow, that at one moment swirled dangerously high, offering flashes of her pail white legs, and the next moment clung close to her hips, tracing the outline of her thighs in a fashion that left her more exposed than if she’d been naked.

Something in her warned her against the show she was putting on—she didn’t need a reputation this early in the school year—but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted Jeremy’s eyes on her, following the flow of her skirt, skimming along her shapely legs, unpeeling her slowly in his imagination. She wanted to be desired, to be thought of, to be seen… There was little that sparked her desires more than the knowledge that she was desired in turn—and she desperately wanted Jeremy, or any of these new boys, to be as excited by her as much as she was by them.

Soon, they reached the wooden Science Barn. Jeremy held open the door for her and she skipped inside and up the stairs, hoping in spite of herself that he was getting a good view. But when she glanced down to see if he was following her, she discovered he was already gone, presumably off to some class on the first floor.

Disappointed he’d missed the highlight of her little show, but glad she hadn’t embarrassed herself further, Chrissy collected herself and headed to class.

* * *

"Welcome to Sex Education," the teacher was saying as Chrissy slipped into the classroom and took a seat near the back. "I’m Ms. Margraff." Ms. Margraff was a young woman, perhaps just out of teaching college, with brown hair, glasses, and a friendly smile. "This course will be team-taught on occasion with Mr. Dodson," she continued, pointing to a man seated behind her by the chalkboard.

Dodson, a barrel-chested slightly older man, grinned at the students. "Call me Carl," he said. "That’s an order." The class laughed. "This class will cover adolescence, puberty, social issues…and of course, sex. Our aim is to provide an open, safe space to discuss ordinarily taboo issues. There are no judgements made here, and nothing discussed in this class leaves this room. And we will give you honest answers. You’ll notice we don’t call it ‘Health’ or ‘Issues’ or anything along those lines; it’s Sex Ed., plain and simple. Any questions?"

A girl in the front row—Chrissy was pretty sure her name was Caroline—raised her hand. "Will we be discussing, um, like birth control and diseases and stuff?" she stammered. Word was that Caroline and her boyfriend had had some sort of close shave this summer, but Chrissy wasn’t sure exactly what had happened.

Mrs. Margraff smiled and answered, "Yes, that will come later in the course. In fact, let’s go over the schedule. The first part of this course will cover female biology and the sexual act. Then we’ll briefly cover male biology. After that, we’ll begin discussing disease and disorders, and then move on to social issues and role-playing. For these final sections, we’ll be joining with the boys’ class, but to make sure everyone is comfortable and that confidentiality is maintained, we’re remaining single-sex for the first part of the term. Now—" She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Mr. Dodson—Chrissy could not bring herself to think of him as "Carl"—went to answer the door. Mrs. Margraff went on speaking. Chrissy, however, was no longer paying attention, because standing at the door was something far more interesting than Sex Ed.—Jeremy! He held a note of some sort; another teacher must have sent him.

A devilish thought came into Chrissy’s head. Maybe she could try to catch Jeremy’s eye again! No one could see; she was in the back row…

Chrissy couldn’t help herself. Seeing Mr. Dodson and her target still in conversation, she tried to catch Jeremy’s eye, by doing her hair up in a ponytail, then letting it down and tossing it innocently. Then she crossed and uncrossed her legs, wiggling in her seat as she did so, so her sheer yellow skirt began to ride up just slightly. She then spread her legs, hoping that from his angle he’d be able to see the surprise she’d hidden underneath her skirt. She glanced over at him. He was still talking to the teacher, but she thought she caught a glimpse of his eyes darting her way.

Time for the coup de grace, Chrissy thought. She mimed a yawn, then stuck her arms straight out to the sides. Then she raised them, curving her back into one great cat-like stretch. As she arched, her white blouse caught the sunlight and the silky material gleamed almost silver. Her young breasts strained against the too-tight confines of her blouse, each pert globe clearly outlined against the fabric. Her bra was so thin that her nipples poked prominently for him, and as Chrissy began to be aroused at the thought of Jeremy watching her, they became harder, popping up through the shirt like buttons. She rubbed her thighs together, hoping he was watching, hoping no one else had caught her, hoping…

"Christine!" The sound of Ms. Margraff’s voice cut through Chrissy’s fantasy. She dropped her arms and flushed a bright scarlet. She though at first she’d been caught, but then her teacher continued, "It’s so nice to see a new student volunteering. Especially in a class like this. Come up to the front please."

Good, she just thought I was raising my hand, thought the relieved Chrissy. She made her way to the front of the class, subtly trying to work her skirt back down as she did so. She tried to put on a convincing smile for her teacher, wondering what she’d volunteered for. Jeremy was nowhere to be seen; he must have been sent back to class.

"This, class, is the female form," said Ms. Margraff. "For the rest of today, we will use Christine’s body to explore the wonders of the human body, and the female sexual organs and responses. Christine, remove your shirt please, dear."

"What!" Chrissy said, her mouth open in shock. Then she realized what it was she had volunteered for. She was going to be their scientific model. Oh God, she thought, I wanted to show off to Jeremy, not a room full of girls—in school! Sheer shame paralyzed her. There was no way to back out gracefully at this point. She looked around the room and saw eighteen girls, Ms. Margraff, and Mr. Dodson with their eyes glued to her. After an eternity, she slowly began fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. She slipped off the shirt, and clutched it, as if for comfort, but Ms. Margraff took it from her and said, "The bra too, please."

Chrissy blushed again, almost purple in humiliation now, and did as she was told, then stood mutely with her hands to her sides, shivering slightly at being so exposed. Meanwhile Ms. Margraff lectured, "In Chrissy, we see most of the important secondary sex characteristics—relatively hairless face, high voice, rounded hips, and prominent breasts for nursing…" She went on to describe the various hormones and chemical commands involved in puberty to the students, occasionally pointing to Chrissy for emphasis. Chrissy tried to keep as still as possible, willing herself to be as mannequin like as possible. This was insane, to be naked in front of all these people! She couldn’t help liking to show off a little, but…

Now the skirt please, Christine," she heard Ms. Margraff say. As if in a dream, she slipped the skirt off. A giggle or two escaped one of the girls. The surprise she’d been hoping Jeremy would see—a pair of panties colored a bright metallic blue—glimmered for the entire class. Chrissy’s head was bowed; she couldn’t even look at them any more. But then Ms. Margraff was telling her to take off the panties as well, and Chrissy numbly felt herself complying, the satiny fabric slipping down her firm thighs, past her knees, and settling around her ankles…

* * *

The next thing she knew, Chrissy was lying on Ms. Margraff’s desk, which was covered in paper, like the examining in a doctor’s office. She could feel Ms. Margraff’s fingers, covered by sterile gloves, probing her mound. This is unreal! Chrissy thought. She remembered the school’s brochures mentioned "Taking education to the extremes," but she never expected anything like this!

But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to resist. She felt almost disembodied. The clinical tone of the instructors made her situation seem almost normal. And new emotions welled up within her as she felt her teacher feel between her thighs. First, a feeling of comfort, of surrender, of letting someone else be in control—all she had to do was lay there. But with that feeling was a budding feeling of excitement. To be revealed, to be watched, to have twenty pairs of eyes locked on her body!— Against her will she found herself becoming somewhat aroused.

"Here is the labia," Ms. Margraff was saying to the class. "And here—can everyone see? Come closer if you need a better view—is the clitoris. The model’s hymen has been broken, but that’s to be expected of most girls, given regular tampon use or physically active lifestyles." Chrissy could not help but squirm slightly as she felt the latex gloves slipping inside her. She gritted her teeth and tried not to make a sound, but her breaths were becoming sharper. Every time a finger brushed her clit, she could feel control slipping away… Mrs. Margraff was holding the lips of Chrissy’s vagina open, and each student took a turn looking. When will this end? wondered Chrissy, terrified by what was happening and by the suspicion that she was beginning to enjoy it…

"Now we will explore arousal and the sexual act," said Mr. Dodson, jumping in. "The female body has numerous erogenous zones. The neck, the mouth…really any part of the body, depending on the person. One girl in this class confessed that she could be brought to orgasm simply by having someone bite her wrists. But for most women, the breasts and vaginal region are the central loci of erotic stimuli.

"Now, before we can study the sexual act, Chrissy needs to be brought to arousal. Do I have any volunteers?" From her position of the desk, Chrissy could barely see some girls shuffling their feet and avoiding Mr. Dodson’s eyes.

Finally, one girl, Rachel, a quiet girl with red hair and glasses, raised her hand. "I’d like to try," she said.

"Go right ahead," said Mr. Dodson.

Rachel hesitated. "It’s really okay?" she asked. Chrissy wondered dimly if she was new to this bizarre school too.

"Christine won’t mind; she was an eager volunteer," assured Mrs. Margraff.

Shyly, Rachel bent over the prone girl. She seemed about to kiss Chrissy, but then buried her head in Chrissy’s busom instead. Her tongue raked over one of Chrissy’s nipples. Desire flooded over Chrissy, and her back spasmed into a curved, pushing her breasts further into Rachel’s mouth.

"Notice how the aureoles have swollen," pointed out Mr. Dodson. "The subject’s brain is now on overload, directing glands into preparing for the sexual act. Not that blood is rushing to her breasts and vaginal area. Lubrication has also begun, to prepare the body to receive the male member.

Rachel’s teeth nibbled on the tender nipple, and Chrissy let out a small "merf" sound. She could barely keep still; she wanted to leap up and run for her life, and she wanted to clutch Rachel’s head and pull her closer to her chest. She ached to be touched, to be kissed, for Rachel to be Jeremy, to be a lover, to be…

"Now we will simulate the sexual act," said Mr. Dodson. Rachel stepped aside, flushed and grinning, wiping saliva from her mouth. "Despite the fact that she volunteered," Dodson went on, "Christine cannot be considered ‘consenting’ because of her age. Thus, rather than engage in actual vaginal sex, we will mimic it with a substitute." He produced a vibrator from his coat pocket, and wiped it with a sterile cloth. It was a sleek purple plastic model, shaped like a slender penis. Mr. Dodson demonstrated condom use with the vibrator, lectured on the virtues of spermicide and the dangers of oil-based jellies, and then quickly and smoothly inserted the toy into Chrissy’s waiting cunny.

Sensation coursed through every inch of her being; she jerked upward with a gasp, then sank back into the table, clutching at the paper she lay on, tearing it. Dodson was lecturing scientifically, pointing out the various facets of Chrissy’s arousal, while he calmly and methodically worked the phallus-like object in and out of her young cunt. She was absolutely dripping with desire; she was biting her lips so hard to keep from crying out she feared she’d broken skin.

Then Mr. Dodson turned the vibrator on.

Chrissy squealed with pleasure. Her mannequin façade was gone; she was active now, her hips grinding into the vibrator, her hands clutching her breasts, clawing the table, squeezing anyone within reach. Her clit was on fire, her limbs were trembling, her thighs clamped hard over Dodson’s hand, and her pussy greedily swallowed the buzzing toy.

Soon she was bucking off the table, her smooth, baby-white rump bouncing as she rushed into the thrusting mechanical rod. She could bear silence no longer and started whispering, "Please, please, please, let me come…!" She didn’t care how many students were watching or what her teachers thought; they couldn’t know her desire, all they could do was watch and wish they were in her, wish that they were her. She curled into a ball, seized the vibrator, and began rocking back and forth with it. "Yes, God, yes, yes, YES!" she squealed. And then finally something burst within her and release came, orgasm after orgasm shattering her body until she collapsed limply on the table.

* * *

Chrissy awoke a minute or two later to applause from her classmates. Wrapped in afterglow, she was numbly helped into her clothes by Ms. Margraff. Several girls came up to thank her for her demonstration. Mr. Dodson smiled, shook her hand, and said he expected big things from her in the coming year. But then the class period ended, and one by one the students filed out of the classroom. Ms. Margraff and Mr. Dodson gathered up their papers and materials and left as well, thanking Chrissy again on their way out.

Finally, the only person left in the room was Rachel. The shy redhead stared down at her feet, then stammered, "Thank you for letting me…" Her voice trailed off. She then seized Chrissy in a giant hug, and dashed toward the door before Chrissy could respond in any way.

Jeremy, walking into the room, was nearly knocked over by the girl, whose backpack went spilling to the ground. "I’m sorry," he said. "Let me help you with that."

"NO!" Rachel yelled. Then, collecting herself, she amended, "I’m fine," and began gathering her books.

"Suit yourself," Jeremy shrugged. "How was class?" he asked Chrissy. "I heard several girls say it was awesome, but no one would tell me why."

Chrissy could say only, "It was just Sex Ed." She then smiled at Jeremy and said, "Thanks for coming to check on me."

"Sure" he replied. "Let’s go hit the soda machine before our next class."

Suddenly Chrissy realized something was wrong.

Worse. Something was missing.

My panties, she thought. They’re gone!

That’s when Chrissy noticed Rachel tuck a metallic blue something into her backpack and dash out the door.

Well, there goes my favorite pair, she sighed. Turning to Jeremy she said, "Yeah, I could use a soda right about now. It’s been quite morning." She took his arm, and they walked out the door together.