The Hanging Academy

Section 7, Chapter 9

Friday

I woke up, just gradually aware of the transition from sleeping to wakefulness. I'd been dreaming I was in my bed in the Cameron house, my home growing up, lying curled around Marshall's head. I realized, suddenly, I was in my own bed in the Academy dorm, in that same fetal curl with Marshall cradled against me, and I was truly awake. There was a difference in the way one felt, awake than dreaming. It was an odd feeling, leaving a dream so near the reality of my existence, and the dream proved harder to shake off than one more outrageously unrealistic.

I felt excitement tinged with sadness. Excitement: I was beginning the last full day of my life, standing on the edge of fulfilling the goal that had driven me these last four years. Sadness: I was leaving the Academy, the scene of the happiest times of my life, the home of all my dearest friends

I brought Marshall's head to my face and kissed his lips. You're one of the loved ones I'll have to leave here. But you'll be in the room of someone who treasures you as much as I do.

I showered, and examined my headfur as I blow-dried it. I'd had the salon trim it last week — it had reached an awkward length, a little shaggy to be a "wind-blown" pixie-cut but still not long enough to style the way I would have liked, and I just didn't have time to let it grow any longer. I'd thought about having it all in tight curls, but after looking at pictures I decided it just wasn't me. It was still too short to part properly, so I'd had them cut the front shorter, where it had crept a little too far down my forehead. I'd left the back alone. It still came nowhere near my shoulders, but I had just recently begun feeling it brush the back of my neck when I turned my head. It's a lot less military now. I nodded to myself and decided against stopping in at the salon for a final emergency adjustment.

I dressed in the outfit I'd picked out. I'd debated with myself whether to dress up at all, as opposed to simply wearing my Academy uniform. Marshall had arrived for Andrew's party in that incredibly hot golden outfit, but that was because he was arriving on the day of the party. My party was scheduled for tomorrow, so I didn't need to be dressed for it yet. The deciding factor was that, like Marshall, I'd been sold to someone I'd never seen — Benjamin's son, Calvin. I wanted to make the best possible first impression on my new owner.

Now dressed, I examined myself critically in the mirror — the outfit I'd chosen had looked okay, but it might look different to me now I was preparing to show it off in public.

The shirt was white cotton, with short sleeves, ending just around my diaphragm, so that my midriff was bare. I'd chosen a see-through mesh that left my bare fur visible on the shoulders and upper chest, the mesh gradually solidifying to a solid white just above my nipples. It covered my nipples, but their shape could be seen. I liked the way it showed off my abs. My brown fur contrasted nicely with the white fabric.

My pants were a shiny black vinyl, cut very tight. I looked in the mirror and could just barely make out the form of my sheath, and the undershorts could have passed for Speedo Fastskin.

The student store had provided me with a special-order: open-toed nut-brown half boots that nearly matched my own fur. I'd considered calf-length elevator boots, but decided these shoes provided the look I wanted.

I checked my eyes, and decided they needed just a little touch-up. I applied a black guyliner. Looking more closely them, I realized that I was trying to make my eyes more dramatic — more like Runner's. When I was done, I took in my whole self, trying to see myself as a stranger. An intelligent, sensual, desirable male, I decided. Just what I wanted.

I picked up my new slave choker. The black vinyl collar — matching my pants — was stitched in flowing white script, "WYNN — Property of Calvin S. Smith." I stared at it for a full minute. Quivering slightly, I fastened it around my neck, symbolically letting go of the Academy. The Academy no longer owned me. My sale had gone through a few weeks ago; my master was now a young man, very close to my own age, a recent university graduate, about whom I knew nothing except that he is Benjamin's son. I closed my eyes and slowly blew out my breath to calm myself. I knew Benjamin. He wouldn't buy me for a creep like Andrew.

My thoughts turned to a less visible feature of the choker. Embedded within the fabric was the electronic monitor that would signal when my heart stopped. Donning the choker was the first real step of my final journey. I reached up and touched it, stroking it for a time. Then it was time to finish preparing to leave.

Packing my overnight bag took only a few minutes. I included a second, identical outfit, just in case. Also a looser, more colorful one in case Calvin turned out to prefer that. Little else was left in the room. I'd already given away my favorite party outfits to some other boys my size. Most of my other clothes had gone back to the student store, my books to the library. I'd left my huge piles of class notebooks with Marcus for Runner's use. Marcus had insisted I should not disrupt my mental focus. He would make sure the room was completely emptied and clean when he got back from my hanging.

I left some clothes I'd decided I didn't need, folded neatly on the bed.

At last, I pulled out a dresser drawer, and took an envelope I needed to fulfill a promise made long ago. I'd saved it for last because, even more than the choker, it signified that I was going to my final show. I placed the envelope carefully in a side pocket of my bag and zipped the pocket closed.

I stood in the middle of the room, not to decide whether anything more needed to be done but simply to take a last look around. I hadn't lived in this particular room very long, but it represented all of the dorm rooms I'd lived in during my time here, rooms shared with Sumner, with Shaw, with Maverick, with Marcus and Zuchter, with Runner.

I felt an eagerness to start on my last adventure that conquered my reluctance to leave this place of comfort behind. I nodded to myself, picked up my bag, cradled Marshall in the crook of one arm, opened the door, and closed it behind me.

Marcus opened the door and grinned at me as soon as I knocked. "I heard footsteps coming, and I figured it was you."

Behind Marcus stood Runner, his face alight. I was relieved — Runner was in much better spirits than before. "Wynn! I was just thinking about riding in a car. We'll go in one, right? I've only been in a car that one time, and then I just didn't know what was going on."

I laughed. "Hold on just a minute, Runner. I need to do something first." I set my bag down and carefully held Marshall out to Marcus, face first. "Marcus, I kind of gave Marshall to you once before, when my life here got so rudely interrupted. But obviously, you should have him." I hesitated, then chuckled. "I was about to say something really stupid about taking good care of him. But anyway, your brother belongs to you now."

Marcus bit his lip, smiling as he fought off tears. He reached for Marshall and pulled his brother's head against his chest, his eyes closed, rubbing his cheek against the top of Marshall's head. "Thank you so much, Wynn. I'm so glad we got to be such close friends that you didn't have to think twice about this." He wiped the side of his hand against his eye and turned, taking Marshall to the space he'd cleared on the shelf over the bed.

There were three more overnight bags lined up next to the bed. Marcus had told me he'd help Runner pack.

I turned to Runner, smiling. "So how was your night?"

"Oh, it was nice. They knew I was really sad, so they hugged me between them in bed all night. I felt better when I woke up."

Marcus rejoined the group after having a few words with Marshall. I looked at him curiously. "You do know it's not today, right?" Zuchter and Runner were dressed casually, in white Academy t-shirts and colored shorts, with standard sneakers on their feet, but Marcus was in the executioner's outfit he had picked out — tight black t-shirt with a plunging neckline that showed plenty of chest-fur, full-length black leather pants, and glossy black patent-leather boots. A black choker would have been an ideal addition, but Marcus was only a Second Year student; his metal collar would have to do.

Marcus laughed and nodded. "Of course I know. But I remember you said Marshall's roommate Bailey was in character the whole time at Marshall's hanging. I'm going to wear these too." He pulled dark eyeshades, with black frames, out of his pocket and put them on. "How do I look?"

I smiled. "Totally professional. It's a good thing you're going to kill me tomorrow, because otherwise you'd be looking for somebody else to kill." Actually, I suspected Marcus's role would be limited to setting the noose in place, then giving the signal at the end of the hanging that I was dead. It all depended on what sort of script Calvin wanted to follow, but I suspected he most likely would want to pull the lever himself.

I turned back to Runner. "You under..."

Runner interrupted me. "Yes, I know why you didn't want me to be your executioner. This is my first off-campus hanging show, and you don't want me to get..." he was searched his ever-expanding vocabulary for the right word. "...distracted. You want me to be watching everything that happens."

I nodded slowly. "Right." I should be used to this by now. It's not like I can't read minds myself. I understand how it's done, and I've been learning how for four years. But I still can't do it like Runner does.

If the occasion ever arose when I wanted to hide something from Runner, I was daily less confident that I ever could. That was one of the many reasons I was glad my hanging was coming tomorrow — it made it unlikely I'd ever be in that situation.

The speaker in the room crackled, and said in the voice of Angus, one of the dorm parents for the Second Years, "Can I have everybody's attention..." I wondered why so many of our announcements began that way, as if people would otherwise fail to notice an amplified, disembodied voice suddenly springing up in their environment. Angus went on, "All ten o'clock and eleven o'clock classes are cancelled, for today only. All students please assemble now in the Party Pavilion."

I blinked. "I don't know if we have time for whatever that's about..." I stopped when I saw Marcus's face.

"Uhhh... Wynn?" Marcus was grinning. "That doesn't really apply to us. They can't exactly... start without us."

I stared at him for several seconds, and at last said, "Ah. Okay."

Zuchter looked at the clock. "We have time for breakfast. I'm starved!"

Runner nodded. "Me too."

It seemed very odd in the cafeteria. The serving lines were open, the food was hot or cold as appropriate, but no other students were there. Normally there would be several boys having late breakfasts at this time. I felt as though the world had been suddenly depopulated in the last few minutes, except for me and my friends.

As we ate, Runner suddenly asked, "Wynn, are there princes and princesses in real life? I just read another story with a prince in it, but I never hear about them for real."

I blinked, smiling, wondering where the question had come from. Probably with my hanging so close, Runner's thoughts turned to the standard hanging scripts that I had described to him, including the Prince scene used for Marshall's hanging. The current question hadn't come up then, probably because Runner hadn't yet been aware of the absence of princes in the day-to-day world. "There were princes for real, and kings and queens, a long time ago, but we do things differently now. Now we have elections, where everybody writes down who the leaders should be, and whoever the most people want becomes the leader. And we have different words for what we call them. Like the leader of the city is called the mayor..."

Runner frowned. "I knew about elections from TV. If they didn't choose kings that way, then how did they get to be king?"

As we continued eating, I tried to explain the system of power, back as far as tribal days. I watched Runner while I spoke, noticing that Runner's table manners no longer distinguished him from any other boy in... well, I've been calling it "my world," but it's very much Runner's world now too. Nothing about Runner at this moment suggested he'd lived his entire life, until just months ago, in a culture where boys just grabbed food and ate it with their hands.

By the time I was finished with an explanation that seemed to satisfy Runner, we had all finished eating. My very last meal in the Academy cafeteria. How many does that make, I wondered. Not quite four years... about fourteen hundred days... four thousand meals here?? Can it possibly be that many? I shook my head to clear it. No thought about leaving the Academy had staggered me quite as much as that one.

We returned to Marcus's and Zuchter's room to pick up our bags. Marcus tried — without success — to stifle a smile and said, "What do you say we leave by way of the Party Pavilion?"

I picked up my bag, laughing. "Just a passing thought, was it?"

Marcus nodded. "No special reason."

Holding my bag, I turned in a slow circle, looking around the room I had spent more nights in than the one Runner and I had shared. I've got to stop my mind taking this sentimental farewell tour, I told myself. It's slowing everything down, and I want to get to my hanging. But somehow it was hard to make myself leave the room. At last I took a deep breath, and grinned. "Okay, Party Pavilion it is."

I wasn't surprised to hear the commotion before even entering the corridor that led to the Party Pavilion entrance. It gave me a deja vu feeling; my goodbye party had been here just last weekend.

Marcus, Zuchter and Runner entered first, and the room instantly grew hushed. I grinned and shook my head. Here I go again.

I walked in and stopped, expecting a sudden outburst from the gathered students. Instead, the silence continued for several seconds, interrupted by a single voice — I couldn't tell whose — calling out clearly, "One, two, three." An instant after "three," every boy in the room shouted in synchrony, "GOOD LUCK, WYNN!!!" The organized chant was followed by laughter from various places around the room, and, at last, the applause.

There were two rope lines forming a corridor from the student area door, which I'd just come in through, to the public door on the other side of the room. Students were lined up in ranks outside the rope lines. Obviously there was no intent of repeating the endless hugging session of my party, or making me stop to give a speech. The boys were only there to watch me and deliver a group expression of their feelings for me as I passed through.

Marcus and the others had stopped during my entrance, but now Marcus turned and beckoned me on. I followed, both embarrassed and very touched to be the focus of the scene. I'd only seen this once before, for Larry's exit, and then it was only because all of the students were pretending to be watching a movie star leaving. I wasn't convinced my Academy career was really that distinguished, certainly not in the way Maverick's was. Most likely it was because I'd only so recently returned, and been given a second chance to achieve the goal of my existence, after I'd thought it was out of reach forever. All of the students understood how much that meant to me.

I didn't believe the boys expected me to greet them individually, but I did make an effort to smile and wave at the ones I felt closest to, especially every student I had spent the night with. I brushed tears away with my other hand.

I heard Puppy bark, and spotted him near the rope, and my smile broadened. Tate was holding Puppy's leash, kneeling next to him and applauding. Then the hedgehog started to giggle as Puppy licked his face.

Holden and Hamish, holding hands, were up next to the rope about halfway along. I had resolved not to stop, but I just couldn't pass by the red-headed brothers without one more hug. As I squeezed each one, I whispered in the ear of one, and then the other, "You guys are going to do shows they'll always remember." I broke off the second hug, wiped another tear away and picked up my bag again. I heard both boys shout over the applause around them, "Thank you, Wynn." It was as synchronized as the group shout-out had been moments earlier, but I hadn't seen any signs of them coordinating it.

Mr. Bennett, the assistant Dean, unlocked the exit door and opened it. He smiled at me. "With some boys, when I first interview them, I feel for certain I'll see this day come for them. You're one of those boys, Wynn, and I'm so proud of you."

I hugged him tightly, my tears flowing non-stop now. "Thank you. You just don't know how proud I am to represent the Academy."

Mr. Bennett let me go and held me at arms' length for a moment. "I can tell, Wynn. The very best of luck to you."

I thanked him, and followed Runner out the door as Marcus and Zuchter held it for him. I brushed tears away, trying to collect myself as I took in a great lungful of fresh outdoor air. At the curb, Bill was standing by the open doors of the Academy limo — definitely one of ours; I saw Karl in the driver's seat. Getting the boys from building to car was something the bodyguards took a great deal more care with these days.

All four of us tossed our bags in the open trunk — Runner last, following our example in a brief interruption of his wide-eyed survey of our surroundings. I entered the first open door and led Runner by the hand to follow me in; Marcus and Zuchter took the seat behind.

I pulled a tissue from my bag and dabbed at my face, then reached for my kit to do a quick restoration on my eyes. As I finished, the limo pulled away from the curb. I turned in my seat to watch the Academy grow smaller in my field of vision. Marcus and Zuchter remained silent while I watched, and even Runner was quiet. For now.

Runner's questions were different from what he'd asked on his first car ride, but they came just as fast and excited. In that first ride, he'd been confronted with a whirl of impressions all completely alien to him. Today, he was trying to coordinate visual stimuli with the world he'd been mentally constructing. "Is that a park, where people go to relax and play? Oh, there's a food... grocery store. 'Benson's,' I heard that name in commercials... That's a school, right? I think it must be an elementary school. They wouldn't have swings for older kids. Wynn, what's that building?" Pointing at a high-rise.

I looked for a sign at the entrance, but saw nothing identifying it. "I think it's offices where people work. Probably a lot of different companies use parts of the building. Like one company might use all of the offices on the fifth floor."

"You're not sure, though?"

I smiled. "No one person knows all of the buildings in the city, Runner. Not even the mayor. It's just way too big, with too many different things in it."

"Can we see the university from here? Where Doctor Chase works? In the Sociology Department?" Runner was still seeing the professor twice weekly, describing life in the Island pens to him, while barraging the possum with his own questions.

I shook my head, and pointed past Runner through the right-hand window. "It's over that way, about five miles."

Runner swung around in his seat. "Marcus, when you hang, could you do it closer to the university? Maybe we could go by it on the way."

Marcus laughed. "I'll try, Runner."

Runner suddenly pointed past me. "Oh! I heard of that. It's a preyfur clothing store...."

After about thirty minutes, the limo entered an upscale residential neighborhood, its winding streets heavily shaded with overhanging trees. Runner goggled at the current sights as he had all of the previous ones. "Rich people must live here. Right?"

I smiled. "Pretty rich, yeah." The residences here seemed, if anything, larger than the Cameron house, which was in a different part of town.

I felt a rush of adrenaline as the limo turned into a driveway interrupted by a heavy gate. I'm here!. I'm seeing the place where I'll do my show! Karl stopped the limo beside a speaker and identified us as being "from the Hanging Academy," upon which the gate swung open, and Karl proceeded down a long, landscaped drive.

The car stopped at last at the head of a circular drive, and Bill got out to open the second door, then the third, on the passenger side. Runner looked at me uncertainly, and I gestured for him to go ahead and leave the car. Zuchter and Marcus were already slipping out of the other door. I slid across the seat toward the door, and was overcome by a vivid memory of my first sight of Marshall, in all his golden glory, emerging into the sunlight in front of the Cameron house. I think that may have been the first moment when I told myself, unconsciously, that I was going to do the same thing someday.

Marcus took the lead, going up the steps. He and Zuchter looked around nearly as wide-eyed as Runner at the beauty and elegance of the grounds in front of the house, and the house itself, its porch covered by an overhang supported by white columns. Marcus rang the doorbell. Bill and Karl were gathering bags from the trunk of the limo.

A handsome slaveboy, about thirty, with short dark hair, dressed in a businesslike way in a white buttoned shirt with sleeves rolled up, and sharp-creased black slacks opened the door. He wore a silvery band of metal around his neck. He looked at Marcus, smiled and asked uncertainly, "Wynn?"

Behind Marcus, I raised my hand and smiled. "I'm Wynn."

The boy directed his smile at me and stepped back. "I'm Matty. If you'll come in, Mr. Smith will greet you in just a minute." He looked down the steps and called to Karl and Bill, "Do you need me to get anything?" Karl shook his head.

Benjamin now emerged from an adjoining room. "Wynn! Very nice to see you."

I held out my arms and gave him a warm hug, then backed away to do the introductions. "I believe you know Zuchter. You met him once last year."

Benjamin grinned and took Zuchter's offered hand in both of his. "I did indeed. Very nice seeing you again."

Zuchter smiled back. "You have a really nice house, Benjamin."

Benjamin thanked him, and I gestured to Marcus. "This is Marcus. You haven't been with him yet, but I think you remember his brother Marshall."

Benjamin gaped in delight. "Marshall! Yes, I remember Marshall quite well. Really delightful boy. I'm sure you're the same."

Marcus shook hands with him. "I try, sir."

"Benjamin, please."

"Benjamin."

Benjamin turned to Runner. "And you would be Runner. Wynn pointed you out to me at a party some time back."

Runner gave me an uncertain look, and held out his hand to be shaken as the others had, able to muster a generic greeting, "It's nice to meet you... Benjamin."

Benjamin stood back and rubbed his hands. Looking at my friends, he said, "Now, if the three of you will follow Matty, he can take you out to the guesthouse, where there's some lunch waiting. And..." He suddenly struck the heel of his palm against his forehead. "I knew I'd forget something. I don't suppose any of you brought swimsuits? For the pool?"

Marcus looked amused. "Uhhh... no."

I interpreted Marcus's look. "If it's okay with you, Benjamin, they don't really need the suits." Even without Marcus's vote, I knew Runner would be fine without a suit.

Benjamin raised his eyebrows, and murmured, "Just so, just so. Well, it's certainly okay with me. The pool area is entirely private."

Matty stood by a door leading farther into the house, and said, "If you'd follow me, please." He backed through the door, with Marcus and Zuchter trailing him. I nodded to Runner and he followed them.

Benjamin looked at the bodyguards. "Oh, you two gentlemen as well. The bags will be fine in the guesthouse."

I pointed at my own bag. "Just leave that one." Bill nodded, and he and Karl followed the others with the remaining bags.

Benjamin smiled at me. "And now, if you'll follow me, I'd like you to meet Calvin. Matty can get your bag later."

I felt a tremor rush through me, and swallowed hard. I'm sure he'll be nice, I told myself. I followed Benjamin into an enormous open area, with a skylight above and a fireplace along one wall. Based on the arrangement of couches, I figured this was the living room. At the opposite end, two curving stairways ran up to what were most likely bedrooms, and between them a door led into what seemed to be a library. A young wolf came out of the door, and stopped suddenly.

I froze, my jaw hanging open, my eyes wide. The young man seemed equally stunned.

The young man spoke first, in an awestruck voice. "Wow!"

I understood his astonishment. I was aware my body had changed considerably in the four years since he had seen me, and I had chosen clothes that showed it to best advantage. I could easily read the appreciation in his stare.

He shook his head and smiled at last. "Hi, Wynn. Your hair looks really cute like that."

I looked back at him for what seemed an eternity. Then I finally managed to croak, "Scott? What... what are you doing here?"

He grinned. "I live here."

"Where's... where's...where's Calvin?"

Scott brought his hands up to his chest, cupped, fingers toward himself. "Calvin Scott Smith. I never really liked Calvin, so I stopped using it in junior high. Dad's the only person in the world who calls me Calvin now. Well, and Matty and Seamus, they call me Mister Calvin. Look, let's go into the library. We can talk."

I looked behind me. Benjamin had withdrawn, leaving me with... Calvin. I followed Scott into the library, looking around the room as I closed the door. Scott, I thought, it's Scott. Of all people in the world to end up hanging me.

He started turning back toward me; I reached for his hand, moving toward him. Pressing against him, I slid my arms around him and kissed him.

Four Years Ago

I waited in line at the food court, to order a soft drink. When I reached the front and gave my order, the wolf in line behind me, maybe a little older than me, stepped up and said, "And I'll have a large Sip Fizz."

I turned around to look at him, wondering how anyone could be so rude, as the clerk asked, puzzled, "Is this together?" I could see the wheels spinning: she'd noticed that we had arrived separately.

The wolf smiled. "Yeah. I'm paying."

I suddenly realized what was going on, though nothing remotely like it had ever happened to me before. I examined the wolf-boy more closely. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

As the clerk handed us our drinks, the wolf passed some money across and said, "I've been trying to decide that. I think I've seen you around. You go to the university, right?"

I smiled. "Mistaken identity. I'm at the high school. I graduate next month, though."

He blinked, but smiled. "I guess I don't know you, then. But we could fix that."

My heart was fluttering. The sudden attention was wonderful, and he was kind of cute, but there was one thought foremost in my mind. "Look, before we start anything, I should tell you I'm not available for anything long-term. I'm going to go to the Hanging Academy in the fall. So you know what that means, right?"

He sighed, and smiled. "Okay, that's useful to know. But you'd be free this Friday, right? We could go to a movie, and maybe go get a steak afterwards?"

I started to say yes, then hesitated. "I'd like that, except I've got this big thing coming this weekend. I'll have to... take a raincheck, if that's okay." I looked at him apologetically.

He smiled. "It is if the raincheck could be used the following week."

I couldn't help grinning. It was so stunning, not just being asked for a date for the first time in my life, but him being so persistent about it.

I hesitated for a second or two, then realized that it would be really useful to have some sexual experience before I started at the Academy — assuming things went that way. Marshall had said they would teach me a lot about it there, but I was willing to bet any amount that none of my classmates would be virgins. "Sure." I checked my pockets, but I hadn't brought a notepad. I turned to the clerk at the soft-drink counter. "Could you tear me a sheet off your order pad? And let me use your pencil a second?" I wrote down my phone number and signed it "Wynn" underneath, and handed it to the wolf, smiling. "I'm usually home after six."

The wolf grinned and tucked it into his wallet. "Great. I'll call you soon, Wynn. I'm Scott." He gave a little wave as he turned away.

"Oh, thank you for the drink!" He looked back and held up both hands in a think-nothing-of-it gesture, and soon was lost in the crowd.

One Month Later

We lay together in Scott's bed in his off-campus apartment, naked, stroking, kissing. I'd attacked him as soon as we got back from the movie, pulled his pants off and started sucking. I'd held him right on the brink for nearly five minutes before he exploded in my mouth; it was a lot but I swallowed every drop. Then he'd insisted on doing me. He knew I just needed release, and brought me off in just a couple of minutes. Mm.... so nice!

I was completely relaxed. No worries about Scott's purposely absent roommate barging in. Scott brushed back a strand of my hair. "You know I'm just really glad we could have some times together. Nobody hopes you get in the Academy more than I do."

I giggled. "That does sound like you're trying to get rid of me. But I do appreciate that, I really do."

He shrugged. "Even if it wasn't for that, I'd always know you could get drafted tomorrow, say. Or your dad could decide to turn you into fur. There's never such a thing as forever. Except memories. Remembering you will be no problem."

I kissed him. "That's really sweet."

He grinned. "Ready for another go?"

I giggled and kissed him again. "You want it that much, huh?"

He rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Naw, hate it."

I reversed over him so we could kiss each other's nipples. When he was good and hard (and I was too), I rolled over on my back and raised my legs, pulling my thighs back with my hands. He coated himself and me with lube, and started to press against me. I pushed back to get him inside me, and he cooperated. I tightened my sphincter — another thing I'd been practicing at home.

Through gritted teeth, he managed to say in a tight voice, "You're getting better at that every time... AHH!"

"You're a good... ooh!... practice partner... aiee!" He'd reached down and grabbed my cock. His hand was still covered with lube, and it was so good....

I needed a good fucking, and he gave it to me, his hand keeping me just excited enough but without going over the edge; I'd been building up my endurance, too. Finally I felt him come in me, and it triggered my own come. It was every bit as good as he had promised it would be.

He lowered himself and lay on top of me, both of us spent, grinning weakly and giving each other soft kisses.

He said softly, "See, that's what I mean about memories."

I laughed and kissed him again.

Two Months Later

I felt relaxed, finally, holding Scott close in bed, the sweat from our lovemaking mixing together. As soon as I walked in, I'd peeled him out of his clothes and attacked him with my mouth. I'd waved him off when he wanted to do me the same way. Then we'd talked and kissed, cuddled and tickled, for over an hour until he was ready again. I'd presented my rear to him, inviting him to mount me. He did, but he'd held off coming until I begged him to give me the release I needed. When he finally did, it left me completely drained. Now, enjoying the afterglow, his eyes looked so big, so close. I smiled and kissed him. "So you know this is our last time, right?"

He returned my kiss. "I know. This has been really, really nice. I just feel lucky we could meet and have this time together we could remember."

I sighed. "I'm lucky too. And I'd give anything to stay here all day, or just another hour. But I have to go." I looked at him with a sad face.

He reached out with fingers from both hands and pulled both corners of my mouth upward, making me giggle. "Don't give me that frown. The reason you have to go is... you're in the Academy!"