February 3.           Today I made my first close-up observation of Miss Tami Smithers.  As arranged, I went to Professor Brignon of the Art Department, who explained that Miss Smithers had agreed to serve as a model for their figure drawing classes.  Miss Smithers had come to their rescue, because the college had announced that this semester it would be opening up these classes (along with some others) to the community and to the students at the local community college, only

We followed Dr. Harridance back into the bright circular lab.  I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t help myself.  The slight, slender body of the nude 18-year-old-girl was shaking even more than before.  She was gasping, her flat midriff heaving in and out, her toes curling and uncurling below the ankle cuffs.  I can’t deny the fact that I am a human male, and even at my age I found myself feeling some sexual arousal at this powerful sight.  I immediately tried to suppress it

One of the guys had thrown a clod of dried mud at her, hitting her on her side, just below the armpit.  It was followed by another, hitting her on the side of the butt.  Soon she was target practice for a series of dirt bombs, one after another.  It was hard to believe these jerks could be so cruel but they were having a great time at it.           As she got higher up she suffered a particularly nasty shot, a cross-blow on the side of the breast.  This was followed by anothe

The naked girl, sweating from her long travels since leaving the Daughters of Judith, her body marked up by the branches and leaves and dirt she had walked through, her bare feet muddy and scratched up by brambles, stumbled through the steaming Georgia woods and crouched down, finding herself in front of a clearing.                   It was a big garden.  Behind, some fields, and a large building, looking like a big school, out of place in the middle of this wilderness.  And

“Hey Brigid,” another guy said as he passed, “are ya -- FRIGID?”           He could detect Brigid giving him the finger from under the table.  He was fascinated by her even more now.  She could give as well as she got.           “Woo!  Look!  The girl scouts!”  Debra’s announcement got the three of them up.  Careful to put her sandals on first, Brigid joined the rest of them as they went up to the big window facing the street.  They stepped up onto the low sill and pressed th

The gregarious Mr. Penka sat down next to his wife and took over the conversation. He had a folder with him from which he took an article cut out from an old-style newspaper. “This is from Dnevnik, the biggest newspaper in Sofia, the capital,” he explained. The article was in Bulgarian, which no one understood, but was clearly about his wife’s participation in the Project, topped by a photo of the two of them, smiling next to a man in a business suit who Mr. Penka said was th