Chapter 18A

I must have been more than half-asleep when I went to bed, because the next morning I woke up in Mom's bed with her arms around me. It was great to be there, and I tried to settle down and enjoy it, but I was all slept out and my arms and legs were starting to twitch restlessly.

I stole out of her bed as quietly as I could. The clock on her bedside table said I was up a half-hour early. My clothes were nowhere in sight, and I didn't want to chance waking Mom while I searched for them so I decided to just tiptoe out without them.

I was getting pretty good at this business of being stealthy because I didn't even hear a sound until I was in the hall and closing her door behind me. The latch made a slight tick as the door shut, but that was all.

What do you do when it's early in the morning, you're wide awake and stark naked? If you're me, you go outside to feed the dog.

Brute was so glad to see me that he knocked me down and tried to wrestle with me as soon as I set foot in the back yard. He acted so much like a puppy that after I put out his food, I played with him for awhile before going back inside.

They say time flies when you are having fun. My fun romping across the yard with Brute seemed to last forever, but that may have been my trance state slopping over into my 'normal' state without my realizing it, or maybe I was just getting better at taking small vacations from real-life — doing things that were just simply fun and didn't involve danger or heroism or anything. I promised myself that I would keep alert to the opportunities for escapism from now on.

I had just stepped out of the shower and had stepped into my bedroom to finish toweling off when there was a soft knock and the door opened a few inches. I stopped with the towel against my breasts by reflex; even though there wasn't anyone who would be peeking into my room that I would mind seeing me naked. Not this time of the morning, anyway.

When the door stopped after opening about six inches and no one appeared, I got curious. I walked over to the door and started to pull it wide when the head of a big thick cock poked through the opening, like it was peeking into the room to see it the coast was clear before the person it was attached to entered. I grabbed the cock before it could escape and hauled the rest of it and Bud into the room with me.

"Well, good morning, Bud!" I said, cheerfully. "Were you knocking with this? I'm lucky you didn't break my door down." I held onto his cock with one hand while I supported the towel with my other. His cock was as stiff as a baseball bat, and almost as thick. I could have sworn that it was getting bigger every time I saw it. It was so hard that I couldn't even feel his pulse in it. The poor boy must be suffering terribly, I thought. I had to do something to ease his pain. I was even starting to have a sympathy pain deep in my pussy that only a good massage could relieve.

"I didn't think of that," he said. "I could have, though. As you can see, I have this problem..."

"Aaah! A bad case of morning-wood? And you brought it over here to see if Dr. Kramer could help you with it?"

"Yeah. Although I think it came on its own and brought me with it."

"Well, it certainly came to the right place," I said, backing up to the bed and pulling him with me.

I tossed my towel on the bed and lay down on top of it with my hips at the edge of the mattress. I though of being coy and making Bud wait a bit before I 'helped him', but he looked like he was in some real distress, so I smiled and spread my legs invitingly.

Bud wasted no time. He put his cock-head to my opening and pushed until it popped inside. After that, he had to work it around some before I was loose enough for it to go all the way in. When it finally did, his heavy balls banged into my ass, making me flinch at the contact with my anus.

Bud moaned at the feeling of my pussy around his cock and he started short-stroking me right away. I suspected that his supposed 'morning wood' was just a randy teenage boy who had become used to sex in the morning and now craved it as part of waking up.

Bud fucked me with an urgency that told me he was feeling pressure that made him need to cum quickly. It was a feeling that he passed to me with his quick, insistent thrusts, making me need release as much as he did. I got ahead of him, though. I came once when his balls struck at just the right spot on my anus, surprising both of us with the suddenness of my climax.

I came again even harder when he did. As soon as his hot cum began to pour into me, I dug my heels into his ass, trapping him until he had given me every last drop.

When I did allow Bud to pull out, he seemed unsteady on his feet. He kissed me and then started back to his room to dress, almost staggered into my vanity table on the way.

"You OK?" I asked, as he recovered and put his hand on the doorknob. He seemed to be in something of a daze. I hoped he wasn't coming down with something.

"Never better, Sam," he said, grinning. "You just have a way of taking it all out of a guy, you know? I need to work out some more or something."

When he left, I pressed a corner of the towel between my legs in case some of the jizz might try to escape. While I waited, I wondered if I were getting better at sex the same way I seemed to be getting better at a lot of things.

The time it took me to cum seemed to be getting shorter. I thought I was getting turned on easier than before, too. I'd learned in the Sex Ed class — the one that I had to forge Yvette's signature on a form to take — that boys were able to climax quicker than girls and that girls needed more stimulation than boys to reach the same level of arousal.

It didn't seem to me that I had ever needed a lot of time to become aroused; certainly not since I had abandoned virginity as a lifestyle. I had a firecracker's short fuse and I was proud of it. In the time it took a boy to get hard, I could be wet, willing, and waiting.

It did seem that it was easier for me to get my head into a place where my level of arousal bordered on that gray area between cumming and just being really strongly turned on. I remembered taking a ride with Bambi where I wound up so turned on afterward that it was hard to tell if I were still climaxing or not. A lot of the sex I had lately left me with just that kind of feeling. The duration varied, though. It seemed that the prolonged buzz would just keep going until I was distracted and focused my attention on something else.

That might mean that the 'sex is all in your head' business I had been taught was correct. At the time of the class, we girls all laughed at that. We knew from self-exploration that a large part of it was in a specific spot between our legs and the claim to the contrary was likely the work of a yet another male who didn't have a clue how girls worked. Although we had fun making a list of all the other places we had found that produced sexy feelings when touched, rubbed, stroked, or licked; it was very informative to learn that not everyone's list was the same. Some girls had places that felt good that other girls thought were too sensitive to touch, or were painful, or just didn't do anything for them. I had assumed that some girls were just wired differently, but now I had evidence that the difference wasn't in the wiring, but in the switchboard.

I was well aware that my head was a strange and mysterious place. Bambi had warned me about messing about with that specific part of my anatomy once we discovered my ability to make physical changes and she was very wise to do that. But maybe I was rewiring my head without being aware of it. Maybe my brain, like the rest of my body, was responding to the things I did by adapting, changing so that some things became easier, faster, and more intense. I suppose I knew that the brain could adapt, in effect to reprogram itself. That was how we learned, after all. But the idea that my own head might be changing, making it easier for me to do things, think things, or experience things — like sex — was pretty freaky.

I couldn't figure out how I could tell if my head were getting reprogrammed or not. I thought about it for a bit, but I couldn't even come up with a protocol that would tell me if something had changed. It was the classic case of the observer affecting the experiment. All I could do was continue to watch and try to be alert for any further enhancements in my senses or changes in my behavior.

When I checked the towel, it was still only lightly damp from me drying off with it. Nothing had leaked out. As usual, my womb had sucked it all up and sealed it inside. When I concentrated, I could feel the weight of the cum inside me and it felt wonderful. I could imagine all the hot, gooey stuff flowing around in there; a small ocean full of millions of sperm — like microscopic fishies swimming around and around in a sexual frenzy looking for an egg to fertilize.

I still wondered where all that stuff went once it had been pumped inside me, but that question would have to wait. I had made enough breakthroughs for one morning and I had to get going or I'd be late for school.

Instead of going downstairs to breakfast in a nightgown, a robe, or even completely naked — as I kept thinking I might do, just to see the reactions — I decided to go ahead and get dressed. I tried to find something conservative that would hide my figure and make my shape look less like the girl who had gotten so much TV exposure lately.

After futilely flipping through practically all of my clothes, I gave up on the idea of hiding and put on an aquamarine stretch-knit top that gave pretty modest coverage in front — if you didn't count the fact that it hugged all my curves very nicely - but in back was just one strand of yarn that laced back and forth to hold the front in place, then tied in a bow two-thirds the way down my back. Since the single thin strand didn't cover anything, it was effectively backless. The top wasn't technically my size and it didn't cover much other than my front, either. It left my sides bare from my armpits to the bottom of my ribs, where it did wrap around a good bit. It was the first time I had worn this top, and it felt very comfortable and cool.

I put on a cute little pair of faded pale pink knit shorts that I must have got when I was 11. My butt is almost the same size as it was back then, a terribly embarrassing situation that means I have to buy my shorts and panties in the Girls department alongside much younger girls who were there buying their first training bra and trying to get one that matched their cotton panties with the teddy bears on them. Small wonder I have little use for panties, but 'little girl' shorts look terribly sexy on me and I kept several pair that I still wear occasionally.

The shorts made the aquamarine color of the top look even brighter, but I could really have worn anything. Everyone would be noticing my back and not much else. Or that was the idea, anyway. I might still get some looks at the way my shorts kept climbing into my crack and giving me a camel-toe.

"Oh, well," I thought, "maybe I can distract people from making comparisons of our boobs by getting them to look at something else. 'Our boobs'? Will you listen to me? This is going to make me crazy! Some day that may be my dissertation — Incidence of Split-Personality in Superheroines. Gaaaa!"

After I spent some time admiring my reflection and wondering if my outfit qualified as 'sexy-teen' or 'innocent-girl', my stomach rumbled, reminding me that it was time for breakfast and I had to beat two boys to the table if I wanted to eat.

I had gone down the hall and I was just turning to go down the stairs when I heard a thump behind me. When I turned to look, I saw Jim standing in the doorway to his room, rubbing his shoulder.

"You OK?" I asked, walking back up the hall.

"Sure," he said, sheepishly. "Dumbass me. Walked into the doorjamb."

"What? How did you do that?"

"Easy. I saw you ahead of me walking down the hall and I got distracted and turned the corner too sharp. You do know that from the back, those tight shorts look just like skin?" He looked down at my knit top and one corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And that thing doesn't do anything to spoil the illusion."

"What? That I look naked from the back?"

"Unhunh."

"But you've seen me naked."

"Sam, seeing you naked is not something I think I will get used to. Know what I mean?"

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome. Now, after you..." He gestured down the hall and grinned.

I walked on ahead of him, feeling his gaze on me the whole way. My attempt at diverting attention from any similarity between me and The Dragon was having some unexpected side-benefits.

At breakfast, Bud agreed with his brother's opinion of my outfit.

"Sure does," he said. "Not bad from the side, either. Are you going to walk to school today?"

"I had planned to. Why?"

"I just wanted to follow along about twenty yards back. I plan to count the number of people who walk into telephone poles and street signs while looking at you."

"You do that."

He did, too. I even heard him laugh a few times. I didn't know if it was from seeing people walk into things or if it was just the people stopping to look that he found funny. I didn't think the clothes were all that outrageous, but that probably meant that I hadn't managed to fully grasp the male perspective on girls and clothes.

When I got to the school campus, I heard a couple of guys pointing me out and I also got whistled at a couple of times, too. My outfit must have been more effective than I thought it would be. I decided that I needed another female point of view; so I looked around for a friend to ask. But the first person I met was Dina, and she didn't want to talk about clothes.

"Sam! Do you know what happened yesterday?" At first she was so excited that she almost screamed, but then she realized that this should be confidential and she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I mean, I guess you do. But I never imagined..."