Go South, Young Man!

Title: “Go South, Young Man!”

The heat was stifling as the young man, Braden, stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk. His shirt clung to his toned torso, soaked with sweat from the short walk to the bus stop. The sun bore down, relentless, as he waited, fanning himself with the folded schedule his guidance counselor had handed him that morning. “Go South, Young Man!’ it read, its words meant to inspire hope and adventure.

The bus screeched to a halt, its brakes hissing like an angry snake. Braden climbed aboard, swiping his student ID. The elderly driver looked him over, his eyes lingering on Braden’s muscular frame and tight jeans. “First day, huh kid?” he asked, his voice rough as sandpaper.

Braden nodded, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. He took a seat near the back, trying to ignore the lustful glances the driver kept throwing his way. The bus rumbled to life, carrying him deeper into the city, chasing the setting sun.

As the sun stretched its fingers across the darkened sky, Braden found himself in front of an old, dilapidated building. The sign out front read “Southside U.” But it certainly didn’t look like any university Braden had ever seen. The bricks were crumbling, the windows boarded up, the grounds overgrown with weeds. Yet, a soft, golden light spilled from within, somehow inviting despite the building’s decrepit exterior.

Taking a deep breath, Braden pushed open the heavy wooden doors. They groaned in protest, revealing a grand foyer bathed in soft, warm light. To his surprise, the interior was opulent and well-maintained, a stark contrast to the dilapidated exterior. A curvaceous, middle-aged woman in a tight secretary outfit greeted him with a seductive smile.

“Welcome to Southside U, darling,” she purred, her ample breasts straining against her low-cut top as she leaned forward to examine Braden’s schedule. “I see you’re registered for Professor Samantha Stevens’ Folk Studies 101 class. Right this way, handsome.”

She placed a manicured hand on the small of Braden’s back, leading him deeper into the building. He couldn’t help but notice the way her pencil skirt clung to her juicy rear, highlighting every sway of her hips. His cock twitched in his jeans, a heat building in his groin.

As they walked, Braden couldn’t help but notice the decidedly… unorthodox curriculum on offer. He passed classrooms labeled “Erotic Bakery,” “Sensual Photography,” and “Orgasmic Woodshop.” The woman noticed his confusion and chuckled, a throaty, sultry sound.

“Oh, this isn’t your average university, sweetie,” she said with a wink. “We specialize in certain… intimate skills.”

Suddenly, she pushed open a door, revealing a dimly lit classroom. Dozens of naked women lounged on plush chairs, sipping cocktails and engrossed in conversation. At the front of the room stood a striking older woman with long, dark hair and a body that wouldn’t quit. She wore a sheer, white blouse that left little to the imagination, her nipples clearly visible through the fabric.

“Ah, you must be Braden!” she called out, her voice rich and honeyed. “Welcome to your first night of Folk Studies. I’m Professor Samantha Stevens.”

As Professor Stevens strode towards them, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, Braden couldn’t help but stare. She moved with a sensual grace, her hips swaying hypnotically. His cock strained against his jeans, desperate for release.

“Braden, I’ll need you to undress for the rest of the class,” Professor Stevens purred, her eyes locked on Braden’s crotch. “This is an exploration of the human form, after all.”

With shaking hands, Braden peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt, revealing his cut muscles and washboard abs. The women in the class let out a collective sigh of appreciation. Emboldened, he shimmied out of his tight jeans, his huge, throbbing cock springing free.

“Mmm, nice,” Professor Stevens purred, circling Braden like a predator sizing up its prey. “Now, let’s begin our first lesson.”

For the rest of the night, Braden was treated to an erotic education like no other. He learned sensual massage techniques from the redheaded bombshell antique-store prod, teased and tormented an orgasm ( relativement rapidement) from the dick-sucking champion, and had threesome encounters with the double-dildo pro and the bendable elastic yogi.

By the end of the night, Braden was thoroughly fucked, in every position imaginable, by every woman in the class. He collapsed on the plush carpet, his body slick with sweat and cum, his cock finally sated (for the moment). Above him, Professor Stevens smiled down, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“So, Braden,” she asked with a wicked grin, “what do you think so far?”

Braden could only grin up at her, his head still spinning from the onslaught of pleasure. He knew he had found his calling, his true purpose in life. Southside U was his home now, and he couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the curriculum had in store.

With a sigh of pure, erotic contentment, Braden let his eyes flutter shut, ready to begin his second night of study…