Anonymous - She!

"Are you sure, Sue?" he said. In answer, I wrapped my legs around his butt and pulled them tight. There was nearly nothing he could do to resist me. With a sharp pain that elicited my little scream, he broke through. He gurgled deep in his throat with the hot feeling of it and fell further into me.

I thought he would never stop moving into me, my mouth opening wider with each inch of him until he hit my cervix and I felt another small pain. He began moving back then but I pulled him forward until he again hit bottom. Back and again. Further into me each time. Stretching my capacity for him.

Then his pelvic bone pressed into my clitoris, his body relaxing against me, fully inside my sheath. I was suddenly afraid he was going to stop this way. That he wouldn't finish. My legs went wild in a kind of panic.

"Oh, fuck me, Phil. Please! Please, fuck me," I moaned loudly. He backed out of me until I panicked again that I might lose him. He came all the way back into me until his front crushed my clit again and I let out a little scream I just couldn't hold in. "Fuck me. Yes. Fuck me," I hissed with only enough breath to allow me to barely survive.

I'm sure my body was going crazy under him, wildly undulating. The feelings of it were beyond my understanding. Nothing in my long experience could compare to these feelings that washed through me.

He moved back and then quickly thrust back in again. I knew I was making too much noise. I could hear him laughing. Laughing at me? I didn't care. He rode me as I tried to get all of him inside of me, push him away completely, keep him from moving so, get him to move faster. I didn't know what I needed worst.

Then I knew. Yes! "Fuck me. Fuck me fast. Hard. Harder. Yessss!" I screamed. "I'm coming!"

And I did. Completely. Magnificently. Unreservedly. And I felt him gushing, pumping, into me, his body losing all control. My legs were stretched almost painfully toward the ceiling. Then they were both bending and kicking out over and over.

The closest I've ever come to that liberating, complete feeling and the total disorientation was when I'd been killed and flashed back through several recent lives, one after another. That was similar but without any of the pleasant parts of this experience. This was much much better.

"Oh God, Sue! God! I've never…" My body suddenly felt like all the bones had melted away.

When I could feel something again, I said, "Can you do that again?" He moaned.

I knew the test for high school placement was going to be hard but I really didn't realize some of the complications. I started with the assumption that I wanted to be a sophomore, in keeping with my age. Second, I didn't want to give away my rather special abilities and knowledge -make myself a freak. Finally, I didn't want to seem stupid. This presented real problems in taking the test.

First, I had to answer a representative number of questions that would express the right level of knowledge. Second, I had to hit near the top of the age group so I could be thought of as intelligent and get into the accelerated courses with the more intelligent kids. Third, I had to psych out the test so I wouldn't answer some questions beyond what my knowledge level should be. And finally, I had to take up the majority of the time allowed. All of this, I had to do in the same small office with the school district counselor who could, at any time, glance over and see not only what I was doing but how I was doing it.

Experience, they say, is the best teacher and I had more experience than anyone on earth. I'd seen major disasters. I'd lived all of recorded history and much more. I'd had personal acquaintanceship with science, both personally and as a casual interest. I had to study governments, current affairs, and the happenings of the few years before my current incarnation just to survive and, often, for my own reasons. I knew and fluently spoke most of the languages of the world because I'd used many of them on a daily basis at one time.

The easy way to do the test would have been to purposely miss what I'd think would be a reasonable number of questions, then go through it again and answer the others correctly. But what were the correct answers? For instance, I knew the Normans hadn't conquered England in 1066 because I was there with them two years before. And it hadn't been anywhere near that date anyway because the Gregorian calendar hadn't been invented at the time.

So I had to know the answers the test writer wanted, not necessarily the correct answers to the questions.

Of course, zoology was quicksand for me. Half of the things spouted as gospel I knew from personal experience were just plain wrong. Much of the rest was just oversimplification. For instance, often leadership of a wolf pack was fought for by the adolescent males in competition with the grayed male. But, as often, the gray gave it away to the most competent for simple lack of interest in always being the disciplinarian or because he just wasn't terribly good at it.

Therefore, I not only had to know the answers to questions, I had to know the current answers and whether the test I was taking had caught up with current knowledge.

I could have taken the test in half an hour. I had to spend two boring hours. Instead of immediately marking the answers incorrectly that I knew I shouldn't know and then returning to the ones I should know, I had to go through it from the beginning to the end, keeping a mental count in each subject area so I wouldn't seem brilliant in one area and an idiot in another.

It was, I'll say, good mental exercise.

Miss Taylor made it a little easier. When I wanted to waste a little time, looking at her made it easy.

She was camouflaged but poorly camouflaged. She wore a rather severe blue pin- striped suit. But it was a little too well tailored to her diminutive waist and full bustline and she wore no blouse under the jacket. The skirt was hemmed too short so her gorgeous legs sprang to full view. Her stockings were too sheer and too expensive. Her high heels were just a little too high.

She wore her hair in a tight bun but played with a loose lock that fell in front of her ear. She wore glasses but they provided little correction and served primarily to slightly magnify large, gorgeous green eyes. She wore little makeup but her pouting lips needed very little and her long eyelashes none at all. She worked on a serious cast to her mouth and eyes but her natural happiness brimmed through any serious look.

And she smiled too easily and laughed sweetly for almost no reason. The small lines in her face were all laugh lines.

Her long fingers were artistically feminine and sprouted from soft hands.

When she sat behind the small desk, I could see her tightly crossed knees but also the way she wrapped the foot of the lower leg around the chair leg and pointed the toes of the free foot.

I finished the test and rechecked my answers before giving it to her. With quick flicks of her wrist, she marked the wrong answers and then put a mask over the answer sheet that let her count the subject answers and code them onto a graph. In a few efficient moments, she looked at me through those glasses.

Okay, she said, turning the graph for me to follow, pointing out the items as she came to them.

"You're at 11.5 in science," she said. Too high. Ouch. I quickly scanned across the rest of the graph points and saw that only the math score was in the 10 range. Damn. Too high. "A little weak in math skills but that can be brought up with a little work. English is 12.0, languages 12.4, history 12.9, and social studies 11.8." She looked at her sheets again and rapidly totaled the areas.

"That would indicate the lower range of twelfth grade. You and your parents can make a decision. You can either work very hard as a senior this year or, if you've got a lot of extra- curricular activities planned, take it a little easy academically and go into the junior year."