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 ï>¿Studies in Advanced Exhibitionism byAnonymousPervÂ(C)

   Studies in Advanced Exhibitionism was not a course that I ever wanted to
take.  However, it's one of the last few classes I need to graduate, a
necessary course for obtaining a degree in Broadcast Journalism these days.
I've always wanted to be a journalist.  It was once again a thriving field,
after all.

   Decades ago, what started as some schlocky, internet gimmick of live
internet streams, grew into something much bigger, and spilled into
mainstream media.  Those online streams covered the national news while the
broadcasters all stripped down, completely naked.  Mostly female reporters,
of course.  Over time, these streams gathered more viewers than most local
and cable news broadcasts.

   It was some years later when federal nudity laws had been passed that
made public nudity legal.  One very brave, local television journalist in
Cleveland upped her ratings significantly by celebrating the new law, in
exactly the manner you can imagine, and during a live broadcast!  The rise
in viewership was immediate, and for local news, unheard of since the
1970s. More and more local broadcasters started having their female
hostesses go naked, until it became the norm.  Cable news picked it up too,
of course, taking things even further.  So now, it wasn't just membership
streams online, it was everywhere.

   One interesting thing about the change is, it isn't just the prettiest
girls who become popular television journalists.  There are people with
body types of all shapes and sizes reporting the news.  Some become quite
popular, more for their their bubbly or charismatic personalities, than
their naked bodies.  There's no denying that the nudity helps draw
audiences, though.  There is always something a bit titillating about the
naked form, even though the law now defines it as a perfectly acceptable
manner of dress.

   I intended to find work at a news outlet that didn't require nude
broadcasting, as there were a few good ones left.  Rare, but they exist. 
Regardless, one still has to take this stupid course to graduate.  The
class was full, and I discovered many students took it as an elective, not
even required for their fields of study.  Once all the seats were filled, a
middle-aged brunette, with silver streaks in her hair, walked briskly into
the room.  She was wearing heels, making her height appear at least six
foot high.  She was lean and athletic, though age was beginning to make its
impact, via the deep wrinkles around her eyes.

   "Good morning, class.  I am Dr.  Amanda Philips.  Many of you may
recognize me from my time broadcasting for WYFK, one of the first,
small-town stations to use nudity to help draw larger audiences.  The role
of journalism includes reaching the masses, and there is no question that
nude reporting has been effective at contributing to that mission.  Today,
the public is more educated and engaged in politics and current events,
than in the history of our nation.  More than eighty percent of people know
who their local mayor is.  Twenty-five years ago, it was less then twenty
percent."

   Murmurs were heard around the room, several students baffled how the
public could have once been so ignorant of current events and local
leaders. In the old days of journalism, rumors and opinions were often
misconstrued as facts.  Thankfully, a more knowledgeable populace improved
society as a whole.

   "By a factor of almost nine to one, men say they would rather watch a
female broadcaster than a male.  And by a factor of almost three to one,
women agree.  It is why women in broadcast journalism generally outperform
men.  Because of this, we will obviously be focusing on more exercises
directed for the ladies of this class.  But don't worry, fellas, you will
get more than enough experience yourselves." The professor chuckled.

   I think most of us were aware of the uneven gender distribution in
broadcast journalism, but supply and demand is a thing.  Dr.  Philips
continued, "Of course, Studies in Advanced Exhibitionism isn't only to
prepare future journalists.  Some of you might be here to build social
skills, or inner confidence.  Whatever the reasons, I promise you a fair,
perhaps even fun, course.  But it may also prove challenging." Nervous
laughter dispersed throughout the crowd.  "For instance, why don't all the
ladies - those who are comfortable with the notion, anyway - take your tops
off right now?  Either remove your tops or pull your breasts out and expose
them to the class."

   The teacher did just that, setting an example for the rest of us.  She
was confident and sassy, proud of her position.  There were a few rustling
movements heard in the front of class.  "That's right.  Go ahead if you're
willing to do it now.  Don't feel shy, but don't feel pressured, either. 
After all, it's the first day of class.  Just you two, huh?  The ones
closest to me?  No one else?"

   A girl to my left, with breasts as large as mine, began unbuttoning her
blouse and raised her hand to draw attention to herself.  The professor
stepped forward.  "Here's another one, but look at this.  Almost forty
people in this class, thirty-two women included, and only three willing to
do the most basic thing to draw attention to themselves."

   Immediately, four or five other girls began disrobing, while the
professor continued, "Don't worry, ladies.  Like I said, you don't have to
do this now, if you don't wish to." They went on disrobing anyway.  "But if
you do try it today, see how long you can comfortably stay exposed.  Even
after class.  We'll find out which students are the most driven and
enthusiastic, and then we will work to get the rest of you to match their
gumption."

   I couldn't imagine pulling my tits out for everyone to see right now. 
It still felt so...  soon.  I simply wasn't comfortable with the idea yet.
Still, I was disappointed in myself while I watched half the girls in class
expose themselves by the end of the period.  They had the balls to at least
try.

   Here's the thing.  You know how tits are all pointy when developing. 
Well, even when I was way past "developed" my tits sort of stayed that way.
Firm, rocket-shaped boobs, destined to become droopy bananas some day.  You
know those top-heavy girls in the fifties with the cone shaped breasts? 
That's me, but decades after it's gone out fashion.  I knew I was going to
have to get over my body image issues to pass this course, but I just
wasn't quite ready yet.

   Later that day, after third period class, I saw one of my classmates
still topless.  Another spark of envy hit me and I didn't like that
feeling. Not one bit.

   ***

   That evening, I pulled my tits out while watching television.  I read
online that just practicing alone, undressed at home, can help one get over
the anxiety of being naked in front of others.  Maybe that's why the
professor started out with today's exercise.  To see who had already
mentally prepared.  Determined not to have a failing grade, I promised
myself I would follow through on exposing my breasts, if the option came up
again in the next class.

   ***

   Dr.  Philips called everyone to attention.  "I'd like the ladies stark
naked today.  Men, topless is fine."

   "Uh, do we have to?" asked one girl near the middle row.

   "If you aren't ready, you may abstain, just like last time" said the
professor.  "But if you intend to strip, I insist that ALL of it comes off.
I'll be needing several of you up here today, in front of the class."

   I was shocked as almost twenty girls began stripping down to nothing.  I
had prepared somewhat for this, but fully naked?  Already?  I couldn't do
it.  This is because of my bottom half; my tush.  I've always been timid
about showing it off to people.  Compared to the rest of me, it is quite
small.  It's round and bubbly, of course, but just not in proportion to the
top half.  I was red with envy seeing so many of my classmates going stark
naked, while I shivered at the thought.

   ***

   Classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I had the whole weekend (and
then some) to psyche myself up for the next one.  I practiced at home every
night, going without clothes, imagining what it would be like if others
were around.  I figured Dr.  Phillips would ask us to strip again, and
eventually require some evidence of participation, but what she said in
today's class caught me completely off guard.

   "Good morning, everyone!" she sang, as we settled into our desks. 
Already, there were already a half dozen naked girls sitting at them.  "Are
there any ladies here, who can suck their own nipples?"

   The question floored me.  WHY would such a thing need to be known?  It
seemed far too intimate.  While eight or nine girls raised their hands, I
contemplated not following suit.  Ultimately, my honest nature compelled me
to lift my hand.  Nervous and shaking, I halfheartedly raised it, and
prayed she was only taking a poll.

   "I should clarify," said the teacher.  "I do not mean by dropping your
head, extending your tongue, and tugging and pushing on your breasts to
just barely reach the nipples.  I need girls who can comfortably suck on
their nipples, without risk of neck injury." About half the hands
disappeared.  "Go on, raise your hands high, those of you who can.  How
many?"

   I raised mine higher, dreading where this was going, while the professor
counted.  "...  three, four, five...  six of you?  Why don't you all come
up here?  Stand behind me." Begrudgingly, I shifted out of my chair, and
followed the other five girls to the front of the class.  I arrived last,
positioning myself on the far end, furthest from the professor.  Dr. 
Philips pointed at the one closest to her.  "Sarah, right?  Would you mind
pulling your breasts out a bit more?  And you, sir," - the professor
pointed to one of the boys up front - "come up here and lick Sarah's
nipples for a moment.  Suck them a bit." Without hesitation, the boy rushed
forward and followed the professor's instructions.  Sarah was giggling
nervously, but eventually that turned to a soft moan.  She bit her lower
lip, curling a brow.

   "Notice Sarah's reactions, class." exclaimed the professor.  "In the
past, many broadcast stations tried claiming acts like this were not sexual
in nature.  She was a bit off-put, even creeped out, at first.  Then, she
had a sensual response.  We must never cross either of those lines in our
work.  It is why, in order to stimulate more viewership, almost all acts of
bodily touching must be performed by oneself.  And you must recognize what
is, and is not, sexual in nature."

   All of it seemed very sexual to me.

   "Deborah Jameson?" the professor pointed to a buxom brunette.  "Please
demonstrate how you can suck your own breasts, while Jennifer, next to you,
recites the news." The professor handed a topless, stacked redhead a couple
sheets of paper.  "Just read off those," she whispered.

   The redhead went straight into the role play.  "In today's news,
President Morrison declared an act of aggression against Morocco, for
spicing their food too heavily." As Jennifer rambled on, Deborah pulled her
tits out and lifted them to her mouth.  Soon, she was licking, kissing, and
sucking her nipples, while the redhead next to her played it up to the
imaginary camera.

   Once Jennifer was finished with the fake report, the professor asked
Deborah, "At any point in that exercise, did you feel objectified or
sexualized?  Were you at all uncomfortable?"

   "Well, no," said Deborah, with her tits still hanging out of her blouse,
wet from her tongue.

   "But if someone else sucked your nipples for you, you might.  Like what
happened with Sarah?"

   "Probably.  When you do it to yourself, it just feels good and gives me
something to do, while keeping the audience engaged.  It becomes a question
of 'Why not do it?'"

   "Exactly," shouted Amanda, waving a finger in the air.

   "Can I try?" asked Sarah.

   The professor clapped her hands.  "You can all try.  Why not stay up
here for the duration of the class and demonstrate this method, while I
continue on with today's lesson?"

   The girl closest to me raised her hand.  "Ma'am, I'm not sure I am
comfortable with this." At least I wasn't the only one thinking this was
way over the line, I thought.  That was, until she continued her chain of
thought, "We are allowed to go completely naked, right?  So by extension,
wouldn't it be okay to touch oneself any way they see fit?  Especially
while one of the other anchors is doing their thing?"

   The professor shrugged.  "Just so long as you don't make it sexual in
nature."

   A girl in the middle row raised her hand.  "Last week, I saw an anchor
do a piece on premature ejaculation.  They brought two men into the studio
who suffer from it, and when they demonstrated exactly how it happens, it
didn't feel sexual in nature at all.  It felt clinical.  Even when the
second guy released a large quantity of semen on that one anchor's face. 
Still, I heard it received hundreds of complaints to the FCC."

   "Ah, I see you are up on current events," said Dr.  Phillips.  "Issues
like that crop up from time to time.  You may recall when Ann Morris, a
well-known news anchor in New York, did a piece on the anniversary of the
film, Deep Throat.  The FCC tried to fine the broadcaster a half million
dollars, but they lost the appeal, remember?"

   One of the boys spoke up, "I know about that one.  When Miss Morris
demonstrated what the movie was about, the man didn't ejaculate or
anything. The station proved that putting context into the reporting did
not make the piece sexual in nature, even though the topic of discussion
was about a film that revolutionized the sex film industry.  If I remember,
it was a very complicated case."

   As the group continued its conversation, all five girls next to me had
stripped to nothing and began sucking their tits.  The one girl was
fingering her ass, as well.  I felt like a sore thumb.  I was about to
scooch off the stage, when the professor caught me.  "Ma'am, um..  what is
your name?" She scanned her notes.

   "Autumn Albright," I whispered.

   Dr.  Phillips waved her finger at me.  "I'm sure you can demonstrate
better than anyone.  Go ahead.  Don't be shy.  After all, you shouldn't be,
because you have a great look for the camera." I wasn't sure what she meant
by all that, but nervously, I found myself reaching up, unbuttoning my
blouse.  The teacher was getting impatient.  "Come on.  Faster now.  I need
to get to my next point." She turned and addressed the class, offering more
details and insight on how anchors could best use their bodies to draw
ratings.

   Once I slipped the blouse off, I took a deep breath.  I stared at the
floor and nothing else, as I slowly pulled the two behemoths out, over my
bra.  The girls next to me were slobbering over their own nipples, licking,
pulling and biting them, all while intensely listening to the professor.  I
glanced up, horrified to see three guys in the front row staring at me. 
They weren't focused on any of the other girls at all, even though they
were the ones working so hard to keep the audience engaged.  One guy seemed
hypnotized by my tits, jaw dropped, slobbering.  It made me feel very
horny, but also very embarrassed.

   The professor turned, seeing my nude state and paused.  "Well, look at
you," she exclaimed.  "Very nice." Then she addressed the class again.  "We
know, by tracking the ratings, that large breasts tend to draw the highest
percentage of new viewers.  Let's address Miss Albright's look." She turned
again to me, whispering.  "You're absolutely stunning, so please don't take
offense to this valuable input."

   Professor Philips walked behind me, calling for one of the girls to turn
on some additional overhead lights in the room.  As they came on, she
spoke. "In front of the cameras, you will be under very bright lights, and
they're going to show every mole, freckle and pore.  Also, we can all tell
Autumn prefers a one-piece bathing suit, based on her tan lines.  We
suggest working on eliminating tan lines, and you can use body spray,
lotion or foundation, to smooth out the color of your skin, even hide
freckles."

   I have dozens of light-colored freckles all over my body, especially in
the middle of my chest.  Lots of redheads have them.  I noticed everyone in
class taking a closer look at these features.  Just then, a boy from the
front row interrupted.  "Excuse me, ma'am?  Professor?"

   "Yes, Mr.  Smithers?" ï "Um, what about the male reporters?  I know you
haven't asked us to strip yet, but it may be a job requirement for us, too.
I was wondering how they handle something like getting an erection on set?"

   "It has been known to happen.  It's always best to ignore it.  Not to
address it, unless relevant to the reporting."

   "That's good," he sighed.

   "Why do you ask?"

   "Well, I happen to have a boner now.  I mean, it wasn't an issue until
Autumn got naked, and I'm not sure why I have one...  but if you asked us
to get naked today - you know, us guys - well, it would be embarrassing for
me, I think.  If it happens to me on the job one day, I just want to know
how to handle it."

   "We can practice handling it right now," beamed the professor.  "Why
don't you strip and come up here.  Stand next to Autumn."

   "Oh, uh...  but..."

   "Come on.  Nothing to be ashamed of.  You're a young man.  These things
pop up from time to time." A minute later, this hunk of a guy stood next to
me, his thick cock erect, parallel to the floor.  "See, that's not so bad?"
said Professor Amanda.  The boy looked uncomfortable.

   "Um, so what exactly do you want me to do?"

   "Let's set the scene.  Autumn, I'm charging you with interviewing this
young man, Joe Smithers.  Just ask him anything.  About his life, hobbies,
whatever you like.  Between questions, while he is answering, I'd like you
to suck your nipples, like the others were a moment ago.  You want to draw
in the audience, but remain respectful and non-sexual to your interview
subject, as well.  Got it?"

   "But, how...?" I muttered.  I didn't understand.  Of course this was
sexual.  Wasn't it?

   Joe and I faced each other, his hard cock pointed directly at me, not a
foot from my reach.  I was flustered and didn't know where to begin. 
"Um... uh...  umm...  Mr.  Smithers.  How long have you had your penis?"
The class erupted in laughter.  "No, uh, I mean...  how long have you had
your erectio...  uh, no, I mean..." The class was still rolling from my
nonsensical, irrelevant questions, while I struggled to come up with a good
one to ask.  Finally, I blurted out.  "Why don't you tell me about where
you grew up!" I wanted to bury my head in my hands in shame, but remembered
the professor's instructions, so instead I buried my head in my tits.

   While Joe answered, detailing his years growing up in Podunk, Michigan,
I sucked and licked my nipples.  I wasn't sure how to do it "non-sexually"
because I only ever do it when I masturbate.  Even then, not all the time.

   "Autumn?" the professor asked.  I must not have heard her clearly,
because she said my name again, this time louder.

   I pulled off my tits, looking to her, more laughter erupting throughout
the room.  "Yes?" I asked.

   "Autumn, Joe finished answering your question.  Please, follow up."

   "Oh, uh...  I'm sorry." I must have completely disengaged from the
conversation while sucking my tits.  How long had he been talking?  "What
would you consider your dream job, after graduation?" I went back to
licking my nipples, this time more focused on listening to the interviewee
while I did it.  My pussy was throbbing.

   "If I could follow my dream, and not starve doing it, I'd be a
photographer.  Erotic photography, specifically.  It's a very niche field."

   I twisted my nipples while asking him the next question.  "What exactly
defines erotic art these days?" Considering how nudity itself has been
watered down over the years, I often wondered what is considered "erotic"
that isn't porn.  Based on Joe's answer, I wasn't far off.

   "Personally, I love shooting with one subject at a time, and employing
toys in my theme."

   "Toys?"

   "You know.  Intimate toys.  What people use to get themselves off. 
Here, I can show you." Joe brushed by me, his cock almost knocking against
my left hand.  His desk was in the front row, where he opened his backpack,
producing a cherry-red vibrator, with a clitoral stimulator.  He hopped
back over to me, "My Human Sexuality professor let me borrow this for the
weekend.  I'm going to shoot the model, and the backdrop, in black and
white, while leaving the vibrant color of this toy intact.  If it all comes
out like I hope, I'll be entering this project in a few photo
competitions."

   "Well, good luck on your dream," I retorted, about to move on, when the
professor interrupted.  "Why don't you demonstrate how you do a photo
shoot, Joe?  I'm certainly interested."

   "Absolutely!  Photography is my passion."

   "Passions make for great interviews," said Amanda.  "Do you have your
camera with you?"

   "I have one of them.  I don't have lighting equipment, but I can explain
how I would normally build the set."

   "It's settled then.  Autumn, would you mind continuing the interview?"

   I was frazzled, but nodded, shrugging my shoulders.  It took a few
minutes for Joe to fetch his camera and get things settled.  He had some of
the girls move to the opposite sides of the room, so he could pull up a
chair to center of the room.  He turned to the class.  "Normally, I have
two or three light reflectors.  They'd be positioned here and here, in this
scenario.  Lights would be over here...," he pointed off center, at the
floor.  "...  directed toward the chair." Joe pushed me at the shoulders,
leading me to it.

   "Wait.  I thought I was interviewing and someone else would play the
model."

   Professor Amanda answered, "The best stories are the ones where the
journalists submerge themselves into them, Miss Albright.  Like reporting
from a war-zone, or even a fluff piece on gardening or cooking.  Back in my
days, I used to have a cooking portion on my morning show.  While I
interviewed the chefs that rotated through, I also played the role of sous
chef."

   "Yes, ma'am," I sighed, sitting at the chair.  I was already stark
naked, with all the attention on me.  How could it get worse than this? 
Joe handed me the vibrator and stepped back.  I noticed his erection had
never left him.  "So, umm...  how exactly do you decide what to shoot?" I
asked, continuing the "interview".

   "I almost always have some poses in mind, but I also like to improvise.
Often, a model brings her own character to the work, which can influence
the decisions.  In your case, I would have you kick one leg to the side...
wide, like this." He helped push my knee further out, fully exposing my
pussy.  "Though this may feel awkward to you, it will look great on
camera...  I just need you to push your hips out." I followed his
direction, mindlessly.  It was the only way I was brave enough to do it -
to just not think about it.  "Yes, like that," Joe said.  "Good, your pussy
is already wet, so go ahead and slide the dildo in about halfway.  Tilt
your head up, and give me a look of ecstasy, if you can fake it."

   I called to the professor, asking, "Ma'am, how could this be allowed on
network television?"

   "Autumn, nudity is allowed.  You do not have to be dressed to report the
news.  What you're doing is reporting on someone's work.  Their passion. 
Don't you remember Barbara Walters' last interview?  She reported on a cult
that followed the teachings of Marquis de Sade.  She subjected herself to
twenty lashings and three orgasms during that interview, but it was
perfectly fine in the context of the interview.  She wasn't there to get
her rocks off.  She was educating the audience, like you are now.  Now dig
deep and follow through on this fascinating interview."

   While the professor had been talking, Joe had been helpful enough to
position my hand on the vibrator in the exact manner he wanted, before
helping glide it into my open pussy.  "Okay, arch your back a bit," he
whispered.  "Eyes up there.  That's perfect.  I'll take a few steps back
and put you in frame.  Just don't move a muscle."

   I lay spread open on the chair, hips out, head back, with one hand
frozen in place holding the vibrator in my pussy.  I tried to keep focused
on the ceiling, but I couldn't help but draw my attention back to all the
people watching me.  "The challenge is, Autumn," said the professor.  "You
still want to participate in the process, but you must also continue to
move the story.  Keep the audience engaged."

   My eyes shot back to the ceiling and I immediately asked another
question, "So in most of these erotic photos..." In the corner of my eye, I
noticed Joe was looking at me through his camera now.  "You're only
simulating erotic acts.  Not actually engaging in them?"

   "That's right," he said.  "Something like this requires perfection. 
We're trying to tell an entire story, in one frame.  One photograph.  It's
hard to get things right with the models moving."

   This teacher interrupted again.  "So it's like those advertisements for
food, in a way.  They make the food look absolutely delicious, but often
times, the stuff they're showing you isn't even edible.  Fake food,
essentially."

   "That's a good way to put it," said Joe.  "Like, we normally wouldn't
turn the vibrator on while doing this shoot, but we want to create an image
that makes us believe it is on.  And that it's driving the subject into
orgasmic bliss."

   I hadn't moved my hand since we began.  The vibrator filling my pussy
wasn't exactly pleasurable, but it also wasn't unpleasant.  If it had been
on, I probably wouldn't have been able to hold the pose.  I asked Joe if
that was the reason he didn't turn it on.

   "Exactly!" he smiled.  I could hear the camera clicking.  Was he
actually taking pictures?  He was off to my side, hard to see, while I was
maintaining my current posture.  "However, sometimes we stimulate the
models, if it's necessary.

   "Um..." My voice quivered.  "Under what conditions...  would it be
necessary?"

   "Good job, Autumn," said Professor Amanda, encouraging me.  "Keep the
interview flowing."

   "In cases where we can't get a convincing pose from the model, I
sometimes have them work themselves up to orgasm, simply to experience the
feeling.  I might snap a few stills as they do, so they can look at them
later and then work their poses and expressions from there."

   "Wow," I said, faking interest.  I just wanted off this ride.  It was
embarrassing, because I was dripping wet.  It had to be obvious to everyone
in the room, with my legs spread so far open.  "How long can a shoot take?"
Joe stepped towards me again.  His cock was hard as stone, and now wet at
the tip, dripping in pre-cum.  I wanted to say something, to address the
issue that I thought this interview was far too sexual in a real-world work
environment.  But Joe answered spoke, before I had a chance to express my
opinion.

   "Sometimes a shoot takes less than an hour.  Other times, all day.  Just
depends on the model and the conditions." He flicked on the vibrator to its
highest setting, without warning me.  I screamed out.  "Relax," he
chuckled. "I'm just going to demonstrate why using the props during a shoot
doesn't work well."

   The vibrator hit like a mac truck.  Autonomously, I began driving it in
and out of my pussy, because leaving it in one place for even a second, was
just too much.  I could feel it wiggling in there, warming up, working
every nerve.  And I could feel myself leaking even more.

   "See?  Sex can be fun and sensual," said Joe, addressing the class. 
"But it isn't always as titillating in action, when your medium is a
photograph.  I'll show you." He stepped back and snapped a couple more
pictures, while I fucked myself in horror.  I knew if I didn't stop soon, I
was going to cum in front of everyone.  And I wouldn't be able to stop
fucking myself, once I start climbing that mountain.  I moaned out loud. 
More like grunted, then I dropped my head back even further, rolling my
eyes back.  I grabbed the dildo with both hands, pulling it in deeper
still. Joe stepped back to his original position, snapped a few more, and
then said, "Thank you, Autumn.  You can stop now.  I'll show you the
difference on my tablet."

   I didn't stop pumping, staring down Joe while I tried to speak, "You
mean...  uh..  you'll, um...  show us photos...  of..."

   He stepped next to me.  "Yes, the posed photos, versus the ones now,
where you actually are experience sexual pleasure.  You'll see, the class
will believe the posed shots look best."

   I was unable to stop it from happening, as Joe reached down, pulling the
vibrator out of my pussy.  "No!" I cried, cumming hard as the device slid
out of me.  I tried in vain to stop it from happening, but orgasmic juices
sprayed the chair and even a bit of Joe's hand.  The entire class became
silent.  You could hear a pin drop.

   The only sound in the room was the buzzing of the vibrator, now in Joe's
hand.  Finally, he turned it off.  "Uh, Autumn, are you alright?"

   I sat there, shaking, squishing sounds from all the wetness beneath me.
"I'm uh...  I'm..." My chest was beet red, my face flush, and sweat poured
down my brow.  I didn't even have the strength to close my legs, and I gave
up trying to talk, too.

   Dr.  Philips strolled back to the center of the room, calmly walking
toward me.  "Up until the end, you very well, Autumn.  You had a good flow,
get us engaged in the piece.  Very well done.  Unfortunately, you lost
control of the interview at the end.  That wouldn't be acceptable for
broadcast media.  I think, maybe you should try it one more time, but
maintain your composure to the end, no matter what the subject matter."

   "Another interview?" I asked meekly.

   "Not everyone is an erotic photographer, Autumn.  We can do a different
subject.  We'll just pick another student to try this with, okay?"

   Finally, I scooched up in the chair.  I was still naked, a bit
disheveled and very horny.  I gave myself some mental encouragement.  'The
professor just wants me to try again.  No biggie.  I can do this!'

   Dr.  Philips turned and pointed to the closest person to her, a tall
guy, with sandy blonde hair.  He looked like an athlete.  "And your name
is?" she asked the student.

   "Paul Winston."

   "Why don't you be the next interview subject, Paul?  Hmm, you look a bit
a older than most of our other students."

   The man blushed, "Well, uh...  I had a job for about ten years, before
deciding to finish my degree."

   The professor clapped her hands.  "Perfect.  Autumn, why don't you
interview Paul about his old job?" She turned back to Paul.  "Can you make
it interesting?"

   "I think so," he said.

   "Are you feeling ready, Autumn?"

   I nodded.  "Sure, I can try this again." I got myself positioned in the
chair and looked to Paul.  "I guess I should start by asking, what was it
you did for a living, before coming back to school?"
   "I was a porn director."