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Jane & Janeane

They went over the rise and into the clearing into the glorious view of the ridge, huge and distant, the stand of redwoods going up to the rocky precipice to the right, above the expanse of forest. The path then wound around to the left, down into a little cove and a bridge over a stream, then up again.


“Unhhh! Unhhh!”


Corey and Lisa looked at each other and exhaled in exasperation. Jane and Janeane were at it again. As Corey and Lisa turned the bend that led up to the main concourse the two naked lesbians were 69-ing in a snow bank on the side. Corey and Lisa resisted but finally had to look. Side by side, a position that is normally uncomfortable, except they had bunched up snow to prop up each head and each bent upper leg. Flushed toes spreading and clenching, red fingers grabbing each other’s butt cheeks, tongues separating each other’s lower lips, consumed in the high metabolism of sexual excitement they seemed oblivious to the cold and to any onlookers.

These two were a big problem. Public sex was a no-no at BSC like everywhere else. It was especially bad at BSC because if it ever got out that the naked BSC girls were having sex out in the open, it would ruin the reputation the college had carefully cultivated, confirm people’s worst fears, cause an uproar with the local authorities, and probably bring the great experiment to an end.

“Nnnn!! Oh God! Ohhhh!” Janeane was coming, probably not for the first time. Her cries rang out in the clear winter air, fortunately getting swallowed by the snow before it carried any distance. Out here the snow was about a foot deep, slowly melting after that big blizzard last week. Lisa and Corey stopped and looked with mixed emotions. The Blanke Schande life was designed to abolish female inhibitions. Straight or bisexual girls could “do their business” in the guy’s room, with a door that could be closed, but lesbian sex was by definition always on view. And Jane and Janeane had graduated quite naturally from tonguing each other in their doorless room with guys watching, to doing it in front of guys in the laundry room, then out in the woods, ever more in public.


They should know better. It was hard to escape the conclusion that their ultimate fantasy, which they were realizing in stages, was to 69 each other to orgasm right in front of the quad with the whole campus watching. Both Lisa and Corey watched with increasingly unsympathetic gazes. Now as Janeane climaxed again, her body turning red in her trademark all-over “orgasm flush”, Jane was doing what everyone by now knew was her specialty, spreading Janeane’s butt wide and spearing her tongue into Janeane’s anus in time with its spasms. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! . . . Oh!”

“Oh shit,” Corey said. Walking up the concourse was Mr. Joseph Karasik, the BSC Dean for Alturas, with Professor Outler, the geology teacher, serious men in casual suits, talking no doubt about serious things. Corey and Lisa looked at the spasming couple in the snow, and out of decency waited for Janeane’s climax to run its course. It went on and on as Karasik and Outler approached. Finally the last spasm -- no! There’s another one!

It was at the very last minute. Corey whispered loudly, “Karasik!!” The two naked lesbians got up and scurried into the brush and out of sight like squirrels, their toes kicking up bits of snow behind them.

Karasik was cordial and unsuspecting. “Hello, Ms. Tornelli, Mr. Kaminsky. . . Lisa, Mr. Landau has to talk to you about next week’s meeting. They want everyone to go down to Olive Beach.”

Lisa contained the barest eye-flick toward the woods where Jane and Janeane had recently disappeared, then looked up to the Dean. “What for?” Usually to accommodate her and Mr. Landau, the writing instructor who acted as the Alturas faculty rep, the Board of Governors meetings were done by speaker phone.

“They want to make a presentation, a lot of documents and a slide show.”


“Oooh, a slide show,” Lisa said in gentle sarcasm. “Popcorn too?” It was an unspoken triumph of the Blanke Schande ethos that this naked female standing barefoot in the snow could be so self-assured surrounded by two clothed authority figures as well as the clothed Corey.

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