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Power Chapter 23: Summer
By
marktreble

Power Chapter 23: Summer

Summertime, and the livin' is easy.
The day after finals everyone but me left for home. I had taken a job at the college running the extensive sprinkler system. Each sprinkler had to be turned on and off at designated times, and the whole operation took eight hours every day.

My mother was angry. She had arranged for a seven day cruise for Bethany and Ben and me and Kathleen. She told me I didn’t need to work, because she had plenty of money. I reminded her that she wanted me to become a whole man, and one thing a man does is earn his own money. She thought about it and said that was OK.

Kathleen sent me an e-mail about the fabulous itinerary. They would be visiting Puerto Rico, Angina and St. Urethra. No joke. I wrote her back to be sure and see the famous nitroglycerine mines on Angina, and to visit the Golden Hotel on St. Urethra. Its showers were world-famous. I’m afraid this all went over her head. And to think I had actually dated the airhead for a year.

My Uncle Pete took my place on the cruise. I know Ben was pissed off, but I think Kathleen was happy to be coupled with someone more experienced.

Before they left I borrowed $500 from Uncle Pete. He didn’t ask questions, I just told him I would pay it back in a month at $1,000. I had checked with the college and they OK’d me installing some hardware on the sprinklers, and writing a simple program on the college’s main server. In return I would charge them a flat $350 a week for the work instead of $9 an hour eight hours a day seven days a week. The college saved some bucks, and I had what was basically free money.

The first three days I worked nine hours a day, turning on and off the sprinklers and installing hardware. The fourth day I tested the system and fixed the few bugs. On day five it went live. I ran the whole thing from my laptop in my dorm room, maximum half an hour a day of work.

With plenty of free time I enrolled in a summer course, Introduction to Number Theory. Nearly all classes over the summer took place in the English Department building. That way the college saved on utilities. So far so good. One room in the building had a little problem with the air conditioning. OK, it had a big problem with the air conditioning.

Nearly all of the students had stopped wearing anything more than underwear to class. Finally Miss Richards, the teacher, showed up one day in pink bra and panties. Even then it was sweltering. I looked out the window, longingly, at the nearby swimming pool.

Miss Richards asked me a question one day when I was lost in a fantasy of cool water. She came to my desk to see what had my attention. “Holy Shit!” was all she said.

Immediately after class she called Miss Carmichael, Anthony’s Phys Ed Department Chair. The next class day things improved immensely.

“Students,” opened Miss Richards, “I have reserved the use of the pool by our class, every day, through the end of the summer session. Twice a week for ninety minutes it’s ours alone. We are moving to the pool.”

She interrupted the cheering. “We will not get in the pool. It is not fair for me to require some of the students (gesturing at the guys) to be nude while others (the women – I figured that out on my own) get to wear bathing suits.

“It’s either nobody uses the pool or everybody leaves every piece of clothing in the classroom.”

Melissa (lots more on her later) was the first one naked. The rest of us stripped as quickly as possible and ran to the pool. We splashed and dunked and horsed around until Miss Richards blew a whistle.

“Pay attention. First, this is a class in number theory, not horseplay. We’re here because it is immensely cooler than the classroom, not so you can fuck around.

“Second, this is a class in number theory, not a practical lab in sexual experimentation. We will have academics for forty minutes followed by a ten minute recess, then the final forty minutes of class. If you want to use the recess to fuck, go for it.

“Third, I am a member of the faculty and thus am prohibited from being nude in class. I’ve worn a bikini today, and may swim with you. I will not have sex with any of you. If this gives you a problem, fucking live with it.”

We voted her Teacher of the Summer Session, even before the final class. And that class was a blowout of major proportions.

Miss Richards’ roommate’s brother’s boyfriend (try saying that three times fast with a mouthful of porridge) was a bartender downtown. Some place called the Adonis Stables; Brett later explained it to me. He said that gay students at Anthony avoided the place like the plague. First, you couldn’t get naked, second, you couldn’t drink, and worst of all, you could get arrested for giving an innocent little blow job. Life on campus was much better.

Anyway, Eric (I think that was his name) showed up in his sexiest “bartender-in-underwear” costume and brought along many gallons of Bloody Marys. The Bloody Marys got our attention; Eric didn’t. He got his feelings hurt that nobody hit on him. I finally told him he had worn the wrong costume.

Sexy underwear was not the right tone. A tuxedo might work. Or, stark naked carrying a jug of booze in each hand and a dozen large pretzels strung on his schlong. The middle ground was just the wrong choice.

He asked me to visit him at the bar. I told him I was straight. Since it was fuck break time, I proceeded over to Melissa and her boyfriend Ted (lots more on him, too, later). Ted’s tongue was buried deep in Melissa’s pussy, so I gave him a friendly hand job. For reasons I could not comprehend, Eric was looking at me very strangely.

Anyway, I got a call from Kathleen when they returned from the cruise. She thanked me for loaning her Pete. I told her she could keep the details to herself.

Pete wrote me about the cruise. “I had no idea your girlfriend and sister are both overcome by industrial-strength stupidity. I’m sorry, but ‘moron’ would be a compliment for either of them.

“In case you didn’t know, Ben is not straight and he’s not safe. He is an aggressive bisexual predator. He came on to me, and I told him I don’t have sex with any of the actors, female or male. He got insistent. I told him I don’t have sex with guys. He got aggressive and physical. I broke his nose and told him to stay away from me for the rest of the cruise or I’d start breaking softer and more centrally-located parts of his anatomy.

“They had an adult scavenger hunt game on the cruise one night. Things got wilder and wilder. We were in teams, one man and one woman. Eventually they called for two men’s shirts and two men’s pants. I was drunk, so even though people were looking I let Kathleen take my shirt and pants; she then stripped them off a guy in the audience. Bethany did the same, taking Ben’s shirt and pants up along with those of a member of the audience.

“Next they had the teams demonstrate their favorite sexual positions. Kathleen got naked and was pissed that I kept my underwear on. Ben and Bethany, though, both got naked and started actually fucking in the middle of the room. The staff broke them up, but Ben grabbed his naked sister and tried to fuck her. This guy is sick.

“After they put an end to the brother and sister act, Ben caught a guy on another team smiling at him, so he finished stripping the guy, pulled him out into the middle of the room and gave him a blow job. That’s when they called off the rest of the game.

“I had a discussion with the head of ship security. I told him to watch out for Ben around both men and women. He had already figured that one out for himself. The final night of the cruise Ben was thrown out of a bar and put in the ship’s brig for the night. Not because he was dancing in his underwear, but because he was trying to physically force other dancers to strip.

“You know I don’t give a shit what people do in consensual sex. Hell, Ben’s gay side has made me a tidy sum of money. Consensual sex between adults, of any kind, is fine with me. Non-consensual sex is an abomination. I told Ben not to show up at the studio anymore.”

I sent Pete a check for $1,000; he asked if I had done anything illegal to double the money in a month. I told him what I had done, and he asked if I could tackle a problem his business had.

The solos had no way to predict what kind of income they would get. Sometimes a solo would start and be halfway through before anybody logged on. One girl got very inventive with a dildo for a whole hour and nobody watched. The girls tried some girl/girl action, and still the visitors could not be predicted.

I got the log-in data for solos and it was easy. I told Pete to change the start times from on the hour/half hour to fifteen after and fifteen minutes before the hour. I also identified by performer the most lucrative customers (by ID number only, I had no need for the names). I wrote a simple auto-email program to alert a performer’s most lucrative customers, and wrote a simple script to update the lucrative customer list daily.

Income from the solos doubled in week one, then doubled again in week two. Pete offered to pay me a royalty on the increased income; instead I proposed a three-year license for the software. He offered $15,000 for three years, up front. Pete felt like he was cheating me, but the fifteen grand in my pocket was great.

I roomed with Drew over the summer. He was washing dishes in the cafeteria to make some money. However, he was also studying business administration, so I described Pete’s setup and asked if he had any ideas. “I don’t suppose they record all of the shows,” he said. I didn’t know, so I asked Pete. Yes, they recorded all of the shows.

“Do they charge to view the archives?” asked Drew. I had Pete on the line and asked him. They had never done anything with the archives.

“Pete, do particular customers have favorite actors, or genres, or themes?” I asked. It turned out that they did. “Pete,” I continued, “you are sitting on a gold mine. About how many sessions do you have in archive?” They had somewhere over 9,000.

Pete had a gold mine, and I knew where to get the picks and shovels.

“Let me index the archives with key words. A key word will be something like an actor’s name, maybe Penelope Pussy or Richard Large. They’ll also be genre, such as straight, bisexual, gay, lesbian, fetish and what have you. You already have the stories in text files; I can extract those and provide a way to display the story line. There are other items to index, such as date and setting, and some of this we’ll figure out as we go along.

“Let me at the members’ history, by ID number only. We’ll start with the most lucrative members. We’ll put the archives up on your website. Since production cost is already covered, it will be virtually free to let members watch old tapes. What do you say?”

Pete thought it would work, and gave me access to his server for everything except members’ names. “Someone will need to give me the names of the actors,” I said. These were in the stories, so it would be easy to match them up. We agreed on 45% of the gross revenue to me.

I recruited ten guys and four girls and paid them to watch porn. They had the stories and the films. They indexed each film by actor, genre, and half a dozen other general categories. They added tags such as “blow job” or “rubber fetish,” and so forth. I gave each of them $15 an hour and told them I expected them to index five films per hour. All four girls and two of the guys offered to have sex with me. I turned down the guys; three of the girls were OK, but the fourth was a gymnast.

"And that's how you fuck while standing on your head," Simone told me one afternoon. She even taught me how to swivel from a 69 into a 71.5. If you don't know what that is, I can't really explain it. All I can say is that a flavored condom helps. And be sure to do limbering-up exercises first. The initial try injured muscles I didn't even know I had.

We started with the most-requested actors/actresses’ films. The guys and girls enjoyed the work (who wouldn’t?) Things really got moving when I told them that every time someone finished indexing 40 films he or she could take a paid one-hour fuck break. Productivity positively soared.

In two weeks this produced 850 records fully indexed at a cost of about $2,900. Pete uploaded the indexed films to the website and I wrote a simple email program to send messages to members who had requested these actors, and who had watched at least five films from the index. Members were given one free archived film view per month. Archived films were priced at $3.50 per view. There were 4,000 views in the first week. My take was $6,300.

We redoubled our efforts and by the end of the summer we had indexed all 9,238 films. When new films were produced we indexed those. I tweaked the e-mail notifications. During the first week of September, there were 16,300 views, or $25,000 to me. It had cost me about $30,000 to do the programming and index the films. I gave Drew 20% of the net because it had been his idea; he also pitched in and managed the indexing. We were rich.

I went out and bought a dozen different flavors of condoms. Simone liked the raspberry ones best. Drew turned out to be allergic to something in the raspberry (try explaining that one to the student health center), so she used orange. Drew said he felt bad about fucking a girl who was working for him. Just not bad enough to stop it.

As I said, we were rich. By the time I graduated I had about $3 million in the bank. That was for my pocket change; my non-cash assets dwarfed that many hundreds of times over. I also had a full-time accountant and probably supported half of an entire government department with my taxes. Such is life.

My summer class took me to the library. That’s where I met The Twins. That’s what everyone called them, Tracy and Trixie Morgan were identical female twins. I could not tell them apart. It’s not that all African Americans looked alike, it’s that these two looked exactly alike. Even their boyfriends couldn’t tell them apart.

Tracy worked in the Library. At least she said she was Tracy. Trixie was doing summer stock at a local theater company. Tracy took me to see her sister in West Side Story; she was doing the Rita Moreno role. I was blown away. I asked if she were a music major, thinking that Jay might know her. Nope, marketing. Whoda thunkit?

I liked both of the girls immediately. I was learning to make female friends without having sex with them. Maybe I was growing up.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.


Continue reading Power Chapter Twenty-Two: Birthdays

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