Test Stress

By Graham L. Wilson

Written in gedit 3.4.2 on Fedora 17 with Xfce.

Copyright (c) 2012 Graham Wilson.

Permission is granted to copy, distribute and/or modify this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.3 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts. A copy of the license is included at this link: see my profile page.

Note #1: for Amby (of Amblexis), perhaps to prove that I do have a good grasp of my male mind as well... And look - no names again!

Note #2: sorry Nichole, but I have to give my audience what it seems to want. I will get back to Outliers soon. And yes, this probably is also rude and out of place as well. It would be rather boring to write about if it was all that normal though (hmm).

Note #3: Catholics might well wish to give this one a miss, though no offence is strictly intended.

Editing Note: I actually got my marks back on this exam, and I got 41%, which was around eight or so points better than my older brother, so I suppose being relaxed helped somewhat... Still, I passed Pure Math 30 with a course mark in the 60s, rather than the 80s, so it is not too bad I guess.


I wrote my first adult story about a month and a half ago, around the time of my eighteenth birthday, but was hesitant to publish it due to the rather strict sounding wording on "explicit" content by FictionPress. However, as it turns out this was a false concern, and it in fact became my most reviewed and most favourited story in the month since publication. In this time as well, I looked into some of the other stories favourited by my new audience and found that I by no means contravened the established bounds of the FictionPress community - no if anything I was rather restrained (or at least I do not write anything mature and then put it into 'young adult').

Given the adage 'give 'em what they want', I figured writing more like it was by no means bad thing to do. The concept for this one is fairly obvious, and is intended as some emotional relief from the great strain that was my past month of final and diploma examinations (well, and other annoyances best not named here). Truth be told this has more to do at first with my actual exam rather than my fantasy over the attractive brunette sharing the room with me.

Still, I write to communicate and I would not want this to be all about sex. Plenty of that is there though, grander than in Library Liaison, so do not worry about that. So enjoy! Perverts... and for any admin complaints: why are picking on me? Anyhow, it is good to be writing again, after a rough patch in my life that drained all of my creative energies. Quite a bit more on my list of things to get done though, but that is all so much more enjoyable than what came before.


The problem with studying, I decided, was that you never really knew when you were done. Because of this, you never had confidence that you had done enough. Then again, another part of my mind countered, perhaps that was how I would feel the morning of the exam no matter what else had happened in the days before. Especially when one considers that I had to wake up at six that morning in order to drive in here by 8:30 AM. Thus I was still quite bleary eyed as I stepped towards the grand archway that lead inside the seminary.

This being a Catholic school board, it was exactly the sort of institution I would expect them to run exams from. Outside was a white statue of Jesus, with a beckoning gesture that from the right angle might well appear to be a quite different finger signal entirely. The ambience inside was also particularly predictable - all polished, clean but somewhat stuffy and confining. On the walls were dour faced portraits of priests, their eyes almost following me as I walked towards the waiting room. In all of my other exams, I was always here before any of the other students or the examiner were - that was punctuality for you.

This time that assumption proved to be wrong, and my tired mind suddenly got a jolt of energy as I observed a girl sitting in a chair not too far away from me. She must be writing the same exam as myself, I realized. She did not turn to look at me as I came closer and took a seat a few rows down, her gaze remained transfixed on the floor. Her brown eyes were anxious and sullen, showing for all the world that she felt no better about this coming examination than I did. Well, I would be lying if I said that her eyes were her most notable feature, but I will get back to that later.

She was not tall, but by no means short either. Though she was sitting, I could extrapolate that the tip of her head would roughly hit below my shoulders should she stand straight next to me. Such a thought drove out all ideas of mathematics for the moment. There was one observation even my own tired mind could figure out: that she must have walked here. First off was that there was no parent waiting with her, but more notably was the tight black track-suit she wore, and the water bottle strapped to her hip.

The form-fitting lining accentuated her figure perfectly: slender at the base of her legs, chunkier calves, and some generous mass on the top front and lower rear of her body. She must have noticed my glances, her mind driven away from her own situation momentarily, as she sharply glanced up, then down her torso, and zipped up her track suit up to her chin and so hide her 'notable' bosom from me for the moment. Our eyes met briefly, and I tried my best to convey my intentions as anything other than creepy.

In the end, she frowned, slumped her head in her hands, and went back to staring at the floor. I started trying to come up with something I could say to introduce myself, to explain myself to her, when I heard the thick slam of the main doors and the hollow thumps of footfalls on the cold concrete floor. The examiner, the same that had presided over my prior tests, walked down the hall with an unexpected amount of energy. I could only suspect that caffeine was at work there.

He nodded at me as he past, a familiar gesture, heading straight to the class room that was to be used for today's exam. I was not at all surprised to note that it was the smallest one of the bunch. I suppose that means that the saint they named it after was less important than any of the other's. Well, before long he would have things getting underway, and I would have to shuffle off after him and face the firing squad. After my older brother's experience with this test, I was not counting on much.

It is not that I am that bad of a student, a legion of honours marks should testify to that. Math may not be my best subject however, but I was studying for it pretty intensely these past few weeks - eschewing the joys of spring and early summer for drab question sheets, answer books and calculators. The problem is that my brother had also done quite a bit of studying in preparation for his test - right down to doing some 'practice exams' which were regurgitated from past years' tests. The exam that faced him that particular morning however was something else.

When I looked away from where the examiner had stood, I realized that as I was watching him, she had been watching me. The look on her face was one of confusion, her eyes floating up in contemplation. I realized then that this must be her first exam here, and she was trying to get cues from me for when and where she should go. Hmm, I had already done one or two of my hard science exams here already, so that might imply that she had not been enrolled in either of those.

Ah well, at least she was something to look at. She caught my stare, and now she was the one feeling awkward. Seemingly eager to end any potential or contrived sense of hostility or challenge, she smiled at me in a anxious but forward way. I nodded with a slight upward twist on the right side of my mouth, and without either of us speaking a word we were able to communicate. The one pervading emotion between us was fear, fear of our impending trial, and we both could see each other as a short term distraction.

Unfortunately I knew that would not last for long, the examiner must have been getting pretty close to done by now. There was still no other students here besides the brunette and I, but that was no reason to wait. If others want to irresponsibly be walk-ins and throw their time away, then so be it. I may have had my doubts about this test, but that simply meant I needed any edge I could get - two and a half hours was exactly what I needed, not two or one and a half. I sat myself up, my steel-toed leather boots hitting the rough laminate floor hard, and started heading towards the tiny class room.

Though I did not turn my head, I could hear her softer footsteps echo behind me. I was glad about that. I opened the door and was about to step in until a more broader focused part of my brain made me wait. I glanced backwards and saw that I was wise to play the gentleman, as she stepped through the doorway and nodded at me appreciatively. I took a seat at one end of the table, and she took a seat at the other end - not exactly intimate, but still enough to have maintained the 'connection' between us that was starting to become palpable.

The examiner was hunched over a laptop, with a pile of papers and booklets beside him. They came in two plastic wrapped packs - of which I determined must be for applied and pure. Those were the two categories for mathematics courses: one for the dummies, and roughly equalled the filling out of taxes and everyday number crunching, and the other for those out there who actually gave a damn about the reasons and theory behind the equations, rather than simply seeing them as magic that you input figures into to produce some mystic effect. He quickly confirmed my suspicion by lifting his head and inquiring among his audience of two. My prior deduction about her academic level was confirmed by the fact that he soon slid one of the pinkish booklets to her, while a blueish one instead slid my way. She reached out a hand, and with one finger brought it closer to her. To my surprise, she leaned forward towards my end of the table.

"I took Pure Math before" she stated in a hush, the examiner pouring over paperwork, "but my mother decided that I was not really getting it all that well, so we switched this year." I was struck by the fact that she felt the need to explain it.

"Well, my father is a computer programmer" I replied, not believing that I was talking to her already, "so I kind of have to do the hard stuff." She grinned at me, before dragging out from over her eye a clump of brown hair and bringing it behind her ear.

"Well, then good luck" she stated, and I nodded in concurrence.

"Yeah, you too - though I am honestly not expecting much." I wondered if that was necessarily the most diplomatic thing to say to her given the circumstances. Then again, it was not her test after all, so I could not be spooking her all that much. If anything she might take it as a sign of humility, and not take me as some sort of arrogant genius. I most certainly am not.

Well, maybe at least not in high school math at any rate. I will not speak of arrogant. The door opened, and a large dark skinned woman stepped in and took a seat at the far end of the table. The examiner turned towards the new arrival, and asked her her name and her course. Another applied student. Hmm, I could well be the only one here this time. Then again, given the diploma experience of my brother, I would not blame people from being cautious of that particular course.

I do not know what it is, but they have done something to it since the decade wherein those practice ones were published. I could also not have helped but notice that the teachers were pimping 100$ diploma preparation courses, as well as the copious 40$ charge for a rewrite or even a remarking of your past performance. I also could not help but consider certain provincial budget cuts across the board. None of these thoughts were all that encouraging however, and I had to remind myself that my one possible edge here was that I could go into this calm, and willing to accept disaster - unlike my brother's startling nightmarish encounter with the exam a year earlier. Things were winding down, and soon the trial would begin.

After wiping our calculator memory, following the steps out of his little sheet of paper, the examiner instructed us to turn to the back of the booklet and rip out our answer sheets. These are quite annoying things, as they are a pure example of the cheapness of the system. Oh no, of course we will not bother to actually hire teachers to mark exams - we will just feed them into error-prone computers. Sigh. After taking out our answer sheet and formulas, the teacher went through the rules for the exam and the format of multiple choice and numerical response. Truth be told I was not paying attention, as she and I exchanged another set of very communicative glances, followed by brief smirks. We had something going here.

Then, suddenly, terribly, the clock was ticking and it was time to get to work. The first few questions were not too bad, to be terribly honest. Translations and transformations of functions is not all that terrifying, once you get your head around the graphical voodoo of the graphs and graphing calculator that produces them. However, after that it started to get weird. The two areas in which I had invested a great deal of time in my studying procedure was the solving of logarithms and trigonometric equivalencies. So much so that my room was now awash in scrap paper covered in equations. On this exam however, these questions seemed to be few and far between, and those that were there were something of a nature never before seen by me in the course.

Another question demanded that I work a formula from behind to solve for time, which is fair enough, but they did not give me the height I was suppose to double and input in. I did not start getting too harried however, until I saw what they had done to permutations and combinations on this monster exam. "The sequence needs two repeating digits for the first two positions, which can not be 0 or 8" and so forth. I could almost swear it went on to say "and the fifth can only contain a 9 on Thursday afternoons." I put down my calculator and let my pencil come to a rest in the pit of the booklet's spine; if they are messing with some of the easiest stuff in the course than I am in trouble here. Time to relax for a second and try and refocus myself. Time for a little visual enjoyment.

I raised my head and first checked on the examiner, who was quietly reading a novel from the other side of the room, wrapped up in a fantasy world of wonder and intrigue - well, depending on the quality of that author anyhow. Deciding that he was out for the count, seemingly not caring all that much about watching out for cheaters or tricks, I came to my actual ambition. Staring directly ahead of me, I could see her brown strands flowing down from her scalp as she read out her current question, with a humble frown on her lips. It was an amazingly tranquil sight, to see her quietly at work. I wondered if her test was any better than mine was.

Not that I really cared, as I took Pure Math to learn the theory, not to get a high diploma mark or a tolerable test. I am here to learn, not get a fancy mark. It is not as if I am much concerned about university admittance right now at any rate. Her eyes flicked away from her booklet and onto her scrap paper, and she started working out some sums with soft strokes of her pencil. She could make math somehow seem so endearing, so sweet and yet so alluring. For that moment, I forgot I was doing a timed test, transfixed as I was by her slow, methodical test method. Best of all was that I knew that we had already introduced ourselves to each other: not such a bad morning after all.

Reality only caught up with me again when the examiner glanced away from his novel to announce that we had now entered hour two of the exam. I hastily returned to work and completed my first pass through. Hmm, only about six to eight or so questions out of forty had answers I felt in any way happy with. Ah well, I only needed 30% on this exam to pass the course, and that was all that I was after. I kept myself focused for the rest of the hour, and completed another pass. I can not say that my answers were getting any more accurate to what they probably ought to be, but at least I had a quasi-rational reason for them.

Did the proportions make some sort of sense? Was there some vague memory in my mind regarding this subject? Are any of them patently preposterous? And so on and so on, only abated by the rather curious entrance of a late comer, and his early departure. I can not say I can get what that was about. On the third pass through, starting at about 10:25 AM, I started putting down my answers onto the machine form. One had to be very careful about this, as basically you only get one chance. You can not really erase and try again, as we were pretty sure part of my brother's problem was the computer getting confused by contrast differences between the old and the new. So I kept up the slog, trying to keep my mind focused away from her for now.

I kept myself busy with this task until finally the hour had past, and now I had only the half hour extension left to me. This raised a dilemma. Should I do another pass? Even if I do change my mind on an answer, is it really worth changing the sheet? Perhaps it would just be better to get this over with and be done with it - rather than risk a mental breakdown. I glanced over at her again, and saw that she was still at work on hers, and that gave me my answer. One more go, just so I can keep pace with her - I wanted to make sure that she and I stayed in sync, as I had hopes for what would happen after this exam was over with.

Little did I know then what really was about to transpire. I was not really putting much work into it this time around though, to be honest, as I really was more focused on what she was doing than what I was doing. At 11:18 AM I decided that enough was enough, and raised my hand to get the examiner's attention. He came over, and we finalized the details in terms of getting my name, mailing address, student and school numbers, and any other little bits of annoying data down on the back of the sheet. My academic life rendered down into a series of words and numbers. It did not make me feel really special, just an entry in a larger catalogue.

Hmm. The whole situation made me feel rather ambivalent, but I would not get my mark back for months. That was the really awful part of all of this. I headed for the door and opened it, but took one last glance at the brunette. She was still hard at work, in her oh so darling way, but I knew for a fact that she must be starting to wrap it up, as she only had 12 minutes or so remaining to her. I could emphatically sense the knot that must be forming in her gut based on that observation. I suppose I should be happy that I could resign myself to the hopelessness of my exam, and so not worry so much, knowing that failure truly is an option.

Still, I realized that I should press my advantage in time, and so head out to the bathroom and then head back to the waiting room and await her company. I relieved myself, washed the sweat off my brow - okay so I was not perfectly calm after all - and then found one of the nicer seats by the window looking out onto the seminary lawn, idly watching one fat squirrel skitter about its business. The phone that I had in my pocket, a clunky old 'dumb' model, started to vibrate. The examiner never remembered to ask me to turn it off. Well, I would not have used it anyhow, as I am not used to having it around. I am not exactly a phone person. The number on the caller identification, quite predictably, was that of my father: who else?

"Hello" I stated quietly, raising the phone to the side of my head and hitting the call button with my thumb.

"Hi" he replied, "how was your exam?"

"Well" I concluded, "he was not lying about it. Not so good."

"Oh" my father said, "well, we will see how you did later."

"Yeah" I agreed, without remark. There was a brief silence, probably from my father taking a corner or something.

"Things have gone a bit off track here" he returned, "we won't be able to pick you up for a while."

"I see" I stated, "ah well, I can wait it out here."

"You sure?" my father asked surprised, "it might be awhile."

"Do not worry about it" I declared, "I will be fine." My father decided not to challenge that, as it got him off the hook. The phone call concluded, and I lowered it down away from my face. To my sudden shock, I was immediately addressed to again.

"Who were you talking to?" the brunette asked, standing a metre or so away from my chair. It took me a second to compose myself, as I had not expected her to have sought me out, even if we had started a connection. She brought her hands together.

"My father" I explained finally, "it looks like I will be here a while." She grinned.

"I have nowhere to go" she stated, "we can talk about the test." As spoken, she took the chair on the opposite side of the small end table. I leaned forward against it and prepared for a conversation right out of my fantasies.

"Different tests" I replied, "remember?" She bit her lip.

"Yes" she agreed, "but that does not really matter. How was yours?" I sighed.

"I was forewarned, so I am not too surprised." She frowned.

"Not so good huh?"

"Yeah, but I will not really know for awhile. They take forever to mark these." Her face scrunched up.

"They do?" she asked, "When will we get them then?"

"Not until the next school year starts" I informed, "if the prior pattern holds."

"Damn" she cursed, slumping in her chair. I nodded, it was not a pleasant thought.

"How was yours then? Any rays of hope?" I asked. She shrugged.

"I don't know. I just did my best. That's all."

"Well, I do not know your parents, but that should be all that you have to do."

"Thanks." She sat up again and looked me over. "Where are you from?" she asked.

"Out of town" I stated, "a ranch and poultry farm about an hours drive from the city."

"So that is why you are in the distance learning course?" she inquired.

"Pretty much. What about you?" She relaxed against the back of the chair.

"My mother just did not want to bother with all the prep required for a regular school."

"And so that is why, for example, you walked over here by yourself?" She blinked.

"How did you know that?" she stated. I raised a hand in the air.

"Elementary my dear, you are alone, you are wearing a track suit, with water bottle, and you are in control of your own time."

"Heh, yeah" she chuckled, "I suppose it is not all that clever." I raised an eyebrow, to a further giggle from her.

"One looks for idle distractions" I mused, "to try and clear one's head of all the venomous strain."

"It is good to be done" she agreed, "truth be told I panicked a bit towards the end." I raised a finger to my chin thoughtfully.

"Is that so? You showed little evidence of it." She shook her head.

"No, it was you who were made of stone. I was a bit surprised to hear your skepticism, you seemed so calm."

"You found the time to glance over at me? Your method seemed so thorough." She smirked.

"I am perhaps more subtle at it than you are." I remembered her zipping up her track suit earlier, and frowned.

"Yeah, well, sorry if I creeped you out. I am only made of flesh and blood." She closed her eyes, her features now a large grin. She raised her left hand to the tip of her chin, her fingers grasped at the zipper toggle and she brought it down to the top of her waist. For a moment, all I could take in of her was her generous decolletage.

"A girl can enjoy the attentions" she noted, "if only at more leisurely times." I tried to bring my line of sight back to her eyes, but a part of my mind refused to do so. Well, I suppose my body was now finally waking up. I felt blood flowing to my lower body, and hastily reached for the folds of my pants to hide this fact. Her eyes followed my motions however, and she giggled again. "For a genius, you aren't much able to handle a little flirting." I frowned again, and let my hands fall limp by my sides.

"You're a bit much to handle" I confided, "it is a wonder I got that test done at all." She reached out and wrapped her hand around mine. I glanced away from her, and caught the stare of one of the priestly portraits. This was a rather ironic venue for all of this, that was for sure, and it was perhaps a bit too public. I smiled slyly at her.

"Do you think we could find a place a bit more private?" I asked her. She licked her lips.

"Um, well, maybe. I got the impression that you have been here more than I have." I raised my finger back to just under my nose and thought it over. One proclaimed 'genius' at work. An answer came to me, but surely not... she would not agree, would she?

"I do believe there is a small closet somewhere around here" I recalled, "it might be a bit cramped, but we would be alone." She nodded, her acceptance shaking me to the core, and proceeded to zip up her track suit again.

"You don't get that again until later" she winked. Wow, she was serious. We got up and started to make our way to where my mind recalled the location of the closet. On the way, another consideration came to me: just how far was all of this going to go? With her, it seemed that anything was possible, she was one omnipresent mystery to me. We passed a table where a woman administrator in her thirties had been sitting, but had just gotten up, presumably to go to the bathroom.

A thought occurred to me, a quite devious thought. This was a Catholic institution, so the whole thing would at first seem quite, quite heretical. Yet, it was worth a try. I sauntered over to the table, and, watching that the coast was clear, searched the purse she had left on the table. My companion stopped and gaped at me, not understanding what I was doing. I felt a mascara brush, car keys, wallet, and then, aha, yes! A plastic package. Probably just a wrapped sweet though. Nope, wrong. Ha! So it was true, Church doctrine did not rule all after all. I held it clasped in my hand and slid it down into my pant pocket.

Yes, it was technically theft, but it might well prove to be for the greater good. I knew that my companion still had no idea what I had just done, but her interest in me seemed to transcend her concerns with regards to my criminality. I found the door I was looking for and opened it. To our luck, it proved to be completely empty, and was large enough for two people to stand in easily. She stepped in, and I quickly followed, closing the door behind us. It was dark, but all my other senses were being overloaded from the experience that was her.

I decided to see whether or not I could make it a complete sensory overload however, and felt over the walls to see if I could find a toggle. I could, and a small encased light bulb hummed into life. It was then that I saw that the two of us were not in fact alone after all. On the far wall was an old picture frame, held within was the countenance of the past pope: the late John Paul II. Hmm, was that bad luck? Whatever, I was beyond caring about anything like that. She grinned at me, struck equally by our present circumstances, her cheeks glowing a deep dark red. I could only imagine that the heat on my cheeks corresponded to much the same level of excitement in me.

"Heh, I never actually thought..." she stammered. I leaned forward and kissed her.

"Well, it has. Don't ask me how." She kissed me back.

"Nothing stopped us" she mused, "so here we are." Again our mouths met.

"Indeed." She grabbed my hand again, and raised our arms in the air between our chests.

"Do you want to see them again?" she asked, sweetly. I closed my eyes.

"What do you think?" I replied, but did not open them again until I had heard the zipper. They were even more striking when they were only a choice few centimetres away from me. I brought my other hand up, and was about to place them onto the front of her chest, when she stopped me. What? Had she suddenly changed her mind? Well, she did have every right to I supposed.

"No" she ordered, "not until you tell me what you nabbed from that lady's purse." My face went sheepish.

"Um, alright." I lowered my hand away from her and down into my pocket, and took the package out and brought it to the front of her eyes. She studied it briefly, before grinning again, realization flashing upon her features.

"Ah, I see" she exclaimed, "you really are clever." I slid the condom into her track suit top's front pocket.

"No, just a wild guess - such a good Catholic eh?" She kissed me again.

"Stop thinking genius" she said, "they're yours now." I pulled the top of her black track suit off from her shoulders, rendering her down to her thin red undershirt. She must walk and exercise a lot, as she was in quite excellent shape, with some muscle to compliment the ample breast. I was not yet satisfied though, and so slid both of my pointer fingers under the straps of her shirt on either side and brought them down over her shoulders.

She had not been wearing a bra or anything else like that, and so the "notable features" were now free for me to admire in full, and were also therefore never exaggerated either. I leaned forwards and kissed the nape of her neck and the top of her shoulder. Meanwhile, she tugged at the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head, breaking up my affections briefly. She admired my torso, sliding her right hand over my chest, and her left over my right bicep, pinching it slightly.

"Hmm" she smirked, evidently satisfied, "always go for the nerd then it seems." I grinned at her, as I took either breast in my hands and started to feel, tug and compress them, rubbing her tender pink nipples with both of my thumbs. She moaned lightly as their circular motions increased in speed and intensity. I considered for a moment what the arc length must be for a quarter section of her front breast. I suppose that was an exceptionally nerdy thought, given the circumstances, but at least it attests to the fact that I must have learned something, diploma exam be damned.

"How is it?" I asked, as she lay back against the wall, her eyes shut and her lips quivering.

"Good" she murmured, "don't stop." I did not, save for applying some saliva to my thumbs to make it smoother. Finally, she opened her eyes, and smiled at me again. She glanced from my face, and then to the eyes of the pope. She grinned, and placed one hand over his eyes and came down towards me again. "I don't think he would like to see this" she chuckled, as she brought her free hand to the button of my pants, popped it out, and worked someone else's zipper for a change.

My growing erection rammed hard against the elastic of my underwear, the tip of my penis starting to escape its confines. Her hand came down towards it, along the shaft, and then gripped to hold my scrotum teasingly. She rolled my left testicle around with her pointer finger, leaving me quite at her mercy. If she so wished, she could quite quickly bring me a great deal of pain. That was not in her game plan however, and the sensations were far more, per her trademark, subtle.

"Ahhh" I breathed, "I get the impression you've done this before." She glanced up at me.

"As I think I implied before, my mother does not keep much of an eye on me." I considered that statement, and nodded. She finally retracted her hand from my mass of hair, skin and cloth, and pulled my pants and underwear down to my feet, allowing me to step out of the mass and be completely unrestricted, save for the clunky leather boots on my feet. Otherwise, she now had the complete unadulterated me. She knew that, and so she squatted down before me and took 'me' up into her mouth.

It was an especially new experience, one that no one could duplicate on their own, the feeling of the interior of her cheeks against it, and her tongue at work, rolling over it, stimulating it. Following her style from before, I just laid back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed it. Idly my hand ran through her brunette hair, stroking her as one would a pet. Her face was still just as cute as it had ever been, she had always struck me as such a perfect combination of the petite and the sensual, right from when I first saw her sitting there.

She started to run her mouth up and down along my penis, her tongue going over on the tip. I gasped, as she picked up speed. She was amazing, it was as if I was already in her. At least, it was the way I had imagined it would be to be in her. I would find out the truth of that assumption soon enough. Before the simulation became too complete however, she relented, and my penis plopped out of her mouth like a frozen treat from the mouth of a child. She stood up and faced me, her brown eyes burning into me.

Before I could make a move, she brought herself forward to me and brought our mouths together instead. She slid her tongue into my mouth, and probed it just as she had just done on my crotch. I do not know why, but in the heat of the moment, you do not find that thought disgusting. Instead, I ran my tongue along hers and sent it into her mouth in turn. Meanwhile, I subconsciously began to rub my penis up and down the fabric of her track suit pants in repeated swift motions.

I realized this, and backed my rear away somewhat - no need to make her too untidy. I ran a hand down her side, over her hip and held it there for a moment, ponderously. I then broke away from our kiss, her tongue still sticking out, and brought the hand up and into her surprised gape. Confused, but trusting me, she licked it and brought her moisture to bear upon it. I grinned and winked at her, and slid my hand down her pants and into her panties.

I stroked her labia and began the process of opening the cave that was her vulva, my finger sliding up her vagina. She smirked, closing her eyes, her turn again, before I resumed our French kiss - with her ever so often breaking out of lip lock to release a low primal moan. All the while, above our heads, the dead pope watched. Hmm, perhaps if there is any truth to the theory of spirits, this might well have been an awakening spiritual experience for the old celibate. It certainly was for me. He, he.

Whenever I took my attentions away from the main action, which was not often I can assure you, I could still hear the patters of footfalls from the corridor beyond the closet door. It must be lunchtime. Amazing to consider that those out there were just carrying on their boring daily routine, utterly unaware of what was occurring right under their noses. This place had been consecrated with the bones of a saint, and now it was being violated by two newly "adult" math students relieving themselves of a month's worth of test stress. My thoughts were broken into by her placing her hand on my wrist, stopping my motions on her private parts. We broke apart again, and she looked me in the eyes again. She brought her hands to either hip, and slid them under the ends of her pants, after taking her bottle off.

"It's time" she said, directly, and I nodded. Together, our combined gentle exertion pulled her pants and panties down to the floor, making the both of us now perfectly naked. As naked as Adam and Eve were in the beginning. Well, that would not last long - no doubt because we already knew perfectly well of the knowledge of good and evil. We just did not care what some old prudes thought.

She stepped out of her clothes, while I picked up the top of her track suit and pulled that old stolen plastic package out of her front pocket. She watched me tear the top covering off, but then took it off me, before crouching down to install it. She was the voice of experience after all. Now sheathed, I pulled her up again, my hands under her arms. We embraced, and brought ourselves close enough to count for all intents and purposes as a single individual. That closet seemed quite spacious just then.

She moved her hand back to my nether regions and guided my erection towards her sweet spot. She knew she wanted it, needed it. I was not going to argue, it was time, as she had so proclaimed. I penetrated, feeling those tighter lips close around it, and started the rocking motion, forward and back, forward and back. Her hands clawed at my back, mine lay right over her buttocks. It kept going, the pace providing both of us the chance to focus our attentions on the sensations.

Inexorably however, I was getting faster, and her grip on me was getting tighter. She started groaning, and began rocking against me, slowly syncing with my rhythms, her orgasm building as a ball inside her stomach. I accelerated myself, panting faster, feeling quite ready to cum myself. She was getting louder and louder, until finally she climaxed, very sharply. She did not scream, she did not moan. No, rather her teeth found purchase against the flesh of my shoulder, merging a mix of pain in with other sensations as I ejaculated within my rubber container. I kept rubbing it against the sides of her flesh, extracting that last bit of feeling from my numerous nerve endings.

It was amazing. Masturbation had never come close. It had never seemed that real before. It did not end there however, as there was a long protracted post-feeling. We just stood there, with my penis still piercing her. Finally, when our higher senses returned, we finally pulled away from one another. She blinked at me, and I wiped the sweat from my brow. It was nice to have some from genuine physical exertion, rather than mere anxiety. We then reclined back against the walls and started laughing. It was all a rather ridiculous setting after all. We laughed at the pope, we laughed at each other, we laughed at ourselves.

The occupation of re-clothing each other was a communal effort. First she pulled the condom off me, as my erection finally began to whither. I then brought back up my underwear, before grabbing her undershirt and sliding it down over her form. She brought her panties up around her waist again, as I tossed her her pants. She pulled my shirt over me, and I zipped her track suit top back up to her chin, putting away those lovely 'features' for later.

Finally I stepped into my formal pants, and she did up that particular zipper and buckle. We then looked each other over, quite proud of the two individuals we had just made out of each other - after we had just made each other one. I shaped her hair around her ears and over her forehead, and she straightened my collar. We looked each other over one last time, before I slid the door open slightly, to see if we were clear for our escape.

We sneaked out, and made our way towards the restrooms. She held the condom clasped in her hand, our secret betrayed just a little by a speck of semen escaping between the folds of her fingers. We were separated into the gendered bathrooms, and, like good sanitary people, washed our hands, and our faces with soap and hot water. I can only suppose that the end receptacle for my seed was the trash can in the woman's loo, hidden under wet paper towels. I just hope that woman noticed the lack and herself was not be caught without one night.

Oh well. We met each other in the hallway again, and, holding hands, made our way back to the waiting room. We took our familiar seats and briefly it occurred to me that perhaps all that had transpired was a mere daydream. I checked my phone, and saw that it was 12:53 AM. We had been gone only about an hour. Well, but what an hour. I did not know when my father would be back to pick me up, but I suddenly could not think of what to say to her. Everything else in life seemed so mundane and pointless now.

"So..." she began eventually, "how do you feel about the test now?" I glanced up at her.

"Well" I chuckled, "I think I can safely forget the horror with that antidote."

"Good" she stated simply. She ran a finger up her alternate wrist nervously.

"You feel alright about it?" I asked, seeking clarification. She looked away from me.

"I suppose, though I admit I never got into anything like that so fast before."

"I never got into anything like that before at all, how do you think I feel?" I commented, to a cutting frown, which lead me to hastily add "Which is pretty damn good to be honest. After all, we were simply releasing our mutual anxiety." She turned back towards me.

"You have a way with words" she noted, "I'm just hoping you really are as nice as you seem to be." I raised my eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" I asked, not sure exactly what she was implying. Her mouth twisted to one side.

"As a boyfriend I mean." I blinked at her, a bit taken aback.

"You want me to be your..." I gasped, and she nodded.

"Yes" she explained, "of course I do. I'm not a whore."

"Never suggested you were" I replied quickly, "but if that is how you feel, I most certainly am not going to argue." She smiled.

"I'll need to know how to contact you" she explained, which was quite true. We were home-schooled, we would not be liable to ever run into each other again by mere happenstance. I pulled out a piece of paper I had used earlier to keep track of my vital statistics, and took a pencil out of my test kit bag. She told me her phone number and e-mail address, and I slid it back into my pocket - precious property. "Wait" she said suddenly, "why did you just not put it into that phone you had earlier?"

"It is not my phone, I do not have one of my own" I informed her. She squinted at me.

"Really?" she asked incredulously. I shrugged back.

"Well, take out your phone then, and we will ensure we both have the right information." She did so, and I gave her my e-mail address and instant messaging account name. With all that said and done, I could relax and await my ride out of here. She did not seem to think so however, and came back at me.

"I suppose this is a bit stupid to ask afterwards" she started, "but tell me about yourself?" I knew she felt uneasy about where we stood, so I composed my proper introduction carefully. We had the connection, emotional and physical, and it was time for the personal.

"As I said, I am a farmer, a student, someone I recall brought up the word 'genius' but I am by no means going to verify that."

"A virgin too" she added, regaining some of her spunk again, perhaps from my own jest. I shook my head.

"Not anymore" I grinned, and she chuckled, "Now tell me about you" I finished, and she nodded.

"Okay, I am certainly not a genius. I think I'm fairly, terribly, average in most respects."

"I disagree, but then of course I would." She brought her left pointer finger to her lips.

"How so?" she asked. Hmm, now to try and put that feeling into words. Tricky, but pleasant.

"I'm not sure, it is just that I was intrigued by you from the moment I first saw you. Yes, you're cute, yes, you're sexy, but I don't know - there is something else about you that comes off to me as special." She grinned brightly at me.

"I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me" she declared. I decided to clinch it now.

"That being so" I began, "no regrets?" She considered the question, and then smiled again.

"No regrets" she proclaimed. Before anything more could be said, the phone that was not hers, but not really mine, started to vibrate. I pulled it up out of my pocket and raised it to my mouth.

"Yes" I said into it, though I knew who it would be. In fact, I was wrong.

"Change of plans" my older brother said, "I'm going to be picking you up shortly."

"Hmm" I replied, "massive foul up then?" My older brother sighed.

"Yeah, well, that is not our problem at the moment." I nodded, pointlessly.

"Alright, I will see you soon then." With that, the conversation terminated. I turned back to her.

"My ride's almost here" I said, "so I am afraid I am going to have to bid you farewell." She frowned.

"Why so soon?" she asked. I shrugged again.

"It is my older brother" I explained, "I would rather be seen alone - it's a sibling thing." She smirked.

"Okay, I understand." I stood up, and was about to turn away. I was stopped however, by her hand on her arm. She turned me towards her and kissed me goodbye. We broke apart finally, and I smiled at her and pulled her hair back behind her ears again.

"Be seeing you" I imparted to her. She glanced away briefly.

"With joy" she replied, "and hopefully favourable marks."

"Same wishes to you." With that, I finally made my way away from her and out the door. It was not until I had reached the outer slabs in front of the entrance, that I realized that I did not even know her name. Oh well, there would be plenty of time for that later. We knew each other far better than mere handles, and not just in the Biblical sense. Heh, church pun. Lovely.

My brother pulled up in his car, and I stepped inside. I did not say a word, so neither did he. He simply started turning away and set off homeward. I peered out my window, and to my delight caught the form of a bright brunette in a black track suit making her way home in her customary fashion. I watched her run past the corner of the block, and then relaxed against my chair. What a morning this had proven to be. Summer here I come.

June 27-28, 2012

Edited and reformatted in LibreOffice Writer on August 30, 2012