“Welcome to Sex Education. Now, if you’re expecting a class where you learn to put a condom on a banana and look at pictures of various sexually transmitted diseases in an attempt to scare you out of ever touching yourself for the rest of your life, you’re in the wrong room. If you’re expecting a class extolling the virtue of waiting until you’ve committed your life or until you can file for divorce to someone before finding out that you’re incompatible, you’re in the wrong class. If you’re expecting a class that will tell you nothing at all about the topic you’re studying and will expect you to have utterly no practical experience with it the rest of your life, you’re in the wrong class. If you have issue with everyone else in this class seeing your naked body contorted in pleasure, you’re in the wrong class. If you’re in the wrong class, leave now.” There was a pause as the teacher, Mr. Roche, waited. He leaned on the desk at the front of the room, a battered affair that had seen better days long before it started its career as a teacher’s desk. Five long minutes, he stared at the class, his light blue eyes piercing as they moved from student to student.

The light of a thousand stars filled the small frame of film. Probably closer to a million stars when he considered that the small speck he’d captured was probably a galaxy, almost unimaginably far away. He focused in on the speck, calling on several filters and image sharpening tools at his disposal. Yes, there was the tell-tale halo, just barely visible against the background radiation, the change in gravity. He focused in a little more, applying a couple more filters and he was able to see the shape, a small elliptical galaxy that the disk was showing the beginnings of separation into arms of a spiral. Excitement coursed through his body. This little blob of stars and gas was the proof of his theory he’d been searching for. But he also knew, as any scientist does, that one image, one galaxy, doesn’t proof make. He’d have to find more, deep in the Universe’s past.

Which was worse, Robert couldn’t say: the corset that pinched and squeezed his ribs and guts, making breathing difficult, or the clients who forced him up against the wall without regard to his comfort or safety. This most recent one had just pushed him, face first, his hand against the back of his head, hardly getting the pantaloons down before he had shoved his dick up his ass. Robert tried to keep his mind on his goal, but it was difficult to think about earning fare for an airship when his face was being shoved into a rough wooden house. He really should work better neighborhoods, he thought as the man thrust hard and quick against him. Somewhere with masonry and gardens he decided, a splinter digging into his cheek as the man behind him came.

He leaned against the main trunk of the tree, high enough to not see the ground but still below the roof of the forest. Here, he could see patches of midnight blue and far off twinkling of stars when the wind teased the trees, also ruffling the leaves in his hair. At this height, he could, if he turned, wrap his arms around the tree. For now, he watched, though. It was almost time and he didn’t want to miss it by indulging his inborn love of Nature.

[Readers sensitive to consent issues may exercise due caution. –Ed.]

There was something splendid about the scent and feel of old books. To be surrounded by them was something he’d desired since his earliest recollections. As technology progressed, he became more and more of a throwback, spending long hours pouring over tomes that would be much ‘easier to carry’ on a ‘reader, but he loved the feel of the paper, the smell of age, the sound of the pages turning, the sensation that he was actually learning something as opposed to having it plugged into his brain without digesting it. He resented the ‘ease’ of technology, how it made people take for granted the beauty of the words on the page, how they flowed from one mind to another over the expanses of time and distance.

In another time, he would have been one of the Irish monks, keeping alive the words of the ancients despite the church’s edicts and the layman’s fears. Such an ascetic life would suit him, if he had access to words on paper. More than anything else, words were his god.

I had never met anyone so interesting before. Perhaps I was biased, jaded from my father’s position, the privilege I had known all my life, but to meet a man, one who’d worked himself up from a peasant background to become the tutor of the second son of the Duke of C—.. Truly, that was something to be admired.

Yet, I was young, only just sixteen the summer we met. I didn’t know how things would turn between us, but did anyone? I know if my esteemed Lord Father had seen it coming, he would not have suggested such a course for his precious son. I only knew some uppity commoner dared to presume to be my tutor.

It was the thrill of not knowing just where, or how, things would end up that kept Justin playing the same dangerous games night after night. He’d been in almost every situation he could think of, and still not been ‘caught’ by those that ‘mattered’ in his mind. The one who ‘mattered’ never looked at him, anyway, so his antics were some poor attempt at displacement. Or at least that’s what the shrink in the county lockup decided for him. He’d tried to shake that off, but something about it made it stick in his head, gnaw at his brain even though he saw the shrink once and had only spent a couple of days in juvy.

His only saving grace was that he was still a minor. That would only help him a month longer, though. Somehow, he always managed leniency, but then, he was rarely caught doing the same thing twice. The judges, his parents, the shrinks all put it down to youthful vigor, except that one who’d said he wanted someone’s attention.

by hColleen (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/78285.html) “Tom. Tom, are you awake in there?” The web of fantasy shattered, Tom bit back a groan of frustration and disappointment. “Yes, I’m awake.” “Ken’s here.” A string of profanities formed on Tom’s lips as he struggled to regain something resembling composure. Ken had held the star role in the daydream […]

by hColleen (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/65027.html) “So, when you gonna let me?” Tyler asked, his lips brushing the base of his lover’s cock. He looked up to see hazel eyes struggling to focus on him under tousled brown hair. “Let you what?” Mark gasped between kiss-swollen lips. He really didn’t want Tyler to stop what he was […]