There was 4 minutes left until the bell rang for lunch. English class was always a little boring to be, even though it was my best subject. Today, I was daydreaming, staring out of the open window at the perfect June day outside. Like every other person in that 8th grade class, along with every other kid in every other class in every other school, I felt like a prisoner behind the bars of my desk. Soon it would be summer though, and the thought brought a quiet smile to my face.

It's not easy being an 8th grade boy. Puberty is hard for boys. It's even harder for those of us who aren't particularly well endowed. Self confidence is non-existent. Everything is awkward. I was skinny, with no muscle tone. Glasses too, which was almost a blessing because it mostly concealed the fact that underneath them, i was cross-eyed. Physical prowess had eluded my DNA. Running at any pace greater than a slow jog proved to be pointless. Some unnamed childhood condition caused me to have knee joints that weren't quite right.

My mental abilities were not nearly as pathetic. While I had issues with some subjects, and emotional problems due to my depressing physical presence, over all I had been blessed with above average intelligence. I was an inventor from an early age, dreaming up various devices and machines. A rocket powered car, an airplane of my own design, there were many. I had no resources to construct any of them however. I was limited to dreaming and drawing my ideas, never allowed to see them come to life.

At some point, we all think we have some special ability, or that we're different in some way. It's completely normal for people to do this, especially during the years when they might not have much else to feel good about. I was no different. At some point, maybe around age 10, I had convinced myself that I was different, that I had some special ability that allowed me to do something others couldn't. Early on, I didn't know what the ability was, only that I had it, and I knew I had it.

The bell rang, and the room erupted into the noises of rustling papers and textbook covers being slapped closed with a gratifying 'thwap'. The screeching howls of 27 desks sliding around on hard tile continued until everyone had extricated themselves from their desks, eventually dying down as the class filed out of the room. I was last in line to exit. I was always last it seemed. I didn't mind, it avoided the possibility of being pushed from behind by any one of the dozen or so boys who got a rise out of picking on the small dorky kid. 'One day' I thought. 'One day the small dorky kid will have his vengeance. The thought ran through my mind. There was no hatred, no thoughts of physical harm. I didn't want to beat them up for the teasings I had endured throughout my student career. I wanted something much more difficult to obtain. I wanted to be envied.

As I walked slowly toward the classroom door, I found myself following closely behind the red headed girl named Kimberly. Kim. She was about my height. Small framed and a stereotypical redhead. Green eyes, freckles, pale skin, she had a perfect smile, blessed with a perfect set of teeth. As far as I could tell, be had yet to begin puberty. While she had some curves to her hips and backside, she had no chest to speak of, and could easily be mistaken for a boy if not for her hair or the decisively feminine quality of her face. Her smile was honest, she never showed a mean look in her eyes. I had never actually spoken to her directly though, so my assumptions regarding her disposition could have been completely incorrect.

As we shuffled out of the room, I was casually staring at her backside. Her ass. I was intrigued by it, wanted to touch it, feel it in my hands. I suppose I was an ass man from the beginning.

And so the day went on. I spent my time like every other day, as a spectator, never to participate, destined to watch as others took an active role. The next day was more of the same. Take the bus to school, go to class, go to lunch, more class, bus ride home. And the next, and the next. Only 2 more weeks to go.

I found myself in English class once more, gazing wantingly at Kim as she sat at her desk in the next row, slightly ahead of me. She wore a patterned sun dress, socks and sneakers. Red hair flowed freely down the nape of her neck into her back. A few wisps caressing her shoulder as she tilted her head slightly to one side concentrating on the teacher writing on the board. At the time I didn't know what it was that enamored me so, but in retrospect, it was that balance between girly dress and adventurer sneakers. She had struck that balance perfectly. I was staring hard. I was hard. I was in love. No. I was in lust. I ached deeply for her. To feel her body. To explore her body.

I was disappointed when the bell rang. My daydreaming was being forced to pause. My eyes had a different idea though, and as the others around me began the noisy shuffle to leave the classroom, my gaze was locked on Kim as she gathered her things. The thoughts running through my mind were depraved. They quickly progressed from gently caressing her nubile form to undressing her to exploring her most private parts with fingers, my mouth, my raging erection. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead. I concentrated hard, harder than I had ever concentrated on anything before.

Kim adjusted herself in the desk. Only a few seconds had passed since the bell rang, and I figured I had about another 45 seconds before my lack of movement would start to look suspicious to either the teacher or the remaining students in room. Oddly, Kim hadn't gotten up from her desk either. I didn't want her to, I wanted to continue my mental love making, I wanted to make her shake and shutter with the rush of an orgasm right there sitting at her desk.

Her hands moved to the edges of the desk. The movement appeared to indicate that my secret love making was over, and she would soon leave the room. She didn't. She only grabbed tightly to the desk and arched her back ever so slightly. My intimate moment continued. In my mind, I was standing behind her, running my hands over her hips, then around to her flat stomach. One hand up and one hand down, I explored her thin form. Her nipples felt harder than I thought they would, her crotch was, as far as I could reach, completely hairless, although I was sure that it would one day be covered in bright red pubic hair.

Were were there, in my mind, standing in the middle of English class. My hands exploring her body. She was responding to my touch with the want and the need of a sexual being. She spread her legs slightly, leaving just enough space to allow my hand to delve further between her legs.

It was then that I saw it. It was so slight that even if they were looking, nobody else would have seen it. Kim, sitting there at her desk, in the middle of English class, with 26 other boys and girls in various stages of gathering belongings and exiting the room, spread her legs ever so slightly, then arched her back. It was almost as if she could feel my hands on her skin. Almost as if I was actually touching her.

I was out of time, there was only the English teacher, Mr. Gregory, Kim, and myself left in the room. I broke my stare, grabbed the books from the desk, and hurriedly made my way out of the class. I felt a rush of fear come over me, as if I had done something very wrong. Walking through the door, I stole a quick glance at Kim, still sitting, still clutching the desk. As I began to walk to the cafeteria, I could hear Mr. Gregory speak. "Kim, are you OK?"

I felt guilty, standing there in the cafeteria line. I was ready to be taken away in handcuffs, led away by the police for molesting this young girl, in full view of the English teacher no less. I prepared myself for the inevitable rush of do-gooders, tackling me to the ground right there in the cafeteria, holding me captive until the authorities could arrive and read me my rights.

None of that happened of course. It was all in my head. A sharp jab from behind reminded me that there were other people wanting to get their lunch. I moved forward, closing the gap between me and the person ahead.

Sitting at a table eating, my thoughts were racing. My erection had shriveled into nothingness, scared by the thought of prosecution for my acts. Then, I saw her. Appearing at the doorway to the cafeteria, Kim looked as stunning as ever, although there was something amiss. Her hair looked ever so slightly ruffled, a few strands matted against her forehead, as if she had just run a lap on the track. I watched intently as she navigated the lunch line. I followed her every step as she took her seat and began to eat. The typical lunch room chaos happening around me seemed so distant, disconnected. It was just me and her in that enormous room.

Kim didn't know me. She knew my name I'm sure, but she didn't know who I was. She had yet to catch me staring at her. I suddenly felt empowered, invincible. My thoughts quickly returned to Kim's sexuality. I imagined her lying on the lunch room table. Other students eating their lunches around her. I walked to her table, looking deeply into her eyes as she lay there, vulnerable to my every advance. In my mind, I kissed her. Gently on the lips first, then deeper. As we kissed, my hand resting lightly on her cheek, the din of the cafeteria seemed so far away. I took a seat where I could continue to kiss my new found lover as she lay seductively on the table amongst the milk cartons and bologna sandwiches. My inexperienced hands groped wantingly at her lithe form, the fabric of her sundress the only thing keeping me from the treasures waiting beneath.

I hadn't taken a single bite of my own sandwich since Kim had taken her seat. I looked around cautiously, fearing that I had given myself away. Nobody seemed to notice my mental molestations. Nobody except for Kim. As my eyes returned to her, I found her staring into space, gripping the table in front of her tightly as she had done to her desk back in English class. The look in her eyes was one of arousal, one of ecstasy, one of pleasure. Kim was being molested and she knew it, but her eyes were lying to her. She could feel the hands on her body. The lips on hers felt as real as anything she had ever felt, but there was nothing to see. There was no person there to kiss her lips or caress her body. She could see no fingers touching her nipples, yet she could feel the distinct sensation of fingertips, her nipples responding to the touch, hardening with arousal. My pause brought a look of disappointment to her face. Kim looked around as cautiously as I had a moment before. Was she looking for the person making her feel this way? Perhaps she was looking to see if anyone else noticed the sweat beginning to form on her freckled brow. I didn't know which. I didn't much care.

My erection returned as the images in my head turned more and more explicit. Kim was writhing with lust as she lay there on the table. My hands were getting bolder, one cradling her head as we kissed, the other resting on her thin thigh, slowly making its' way up toward the prize between her legs. She was returning the favor, gripping the back of my head, grasping at my body trying to illicit some pleasure in me as I was in her. Moments passed as we explored each other. Even in this imaginary affair, we were both inexperienced. Fumbling, probing, learning the unfamiliar body of our lover. Kim spread her legs as my hand touched her sex for the first time. I felt no panties as my hand reached its' destination. I assumed that this was simply my imagination being cooperative. Why shouldn't it be, this was my imagination after all.

Imaginations are supposed to be imaginary though, and this didn't seem to be the case here. The prepubescent Kim was proof of that. In my imagination, she was laying on a cafeteria table with hundreds of her fellow students paying no attention to her as she was being sexually stimulated by yours truly. In reality, she was silently sitting in front of her lunch without having taken a single bite. Frozen by the supposedly imaginary touch, making her feel things she hadn't felt before except for the occasional explorations in the privacy afforded by a shower curtain.

I could feel her sex in my hand, feel the wetness of her arousal. She spread her legs wider still, begging me to delve deeper into her without saying a word. I complied of course, finding her clitoris by sheer luck. Focusing on the places that made her arch her back, my inexperience was matched only by the boldness of my hands to explore without fear of rejection. Without knowing who was responsible, there was no way she could possibly reject me.

Then it happened. Concentrating so hard on Kim, I had neglected to pay attention to my own body. I was nearing the point of orgasm, having not even touched myself. The erotic imagery in my head proving to be better than any internet pornography I had yet to find. Across the 20 foot chasm of cafeteria tables, I watched my lover Kim, eyes closed, back arched and sitting in front of an uneaten lunch, grunt audibly. Several people near her seat looked to see what the noise was and it was only luck that none of them were looking directly at her when her body rocked in response to the orgasm flashing through her young body. So taken with the sight of her body shuddering with pleasure that I had my own.

I had been masturbating regularly since the 4th grade, but had yet to actually ejaculate during my orgasms. This was advantageous however, as it made for easy cleanup afterwards. Because of this, I was taken by surprise when the sperm began to erupt into my underwear. It was my turn to grunt, which I did, then immediately regretted doing so. My erection was pulsing uncontrollably as I wet myself with my own seed. My scrawny boy body shook with each new eruption of my loins.

Kim was sweating almost profusely. Her face was flush with orgasmic joy. In my mind, I was pumping my seed deep into her body, filling her womb to overflowing while I suckled her nipples. We were on the table in full view of the rest of the students in the cafeteria. Even in my imagination, I though it odd that nobody took notice of the adorable 12 year old redhead minx in the flower patterned sundress having sex with the dorky kid on a table in front of them. They just kept going about their business like everything was normal.

Everything was not normal however. I had been granted the most wonderful superpower in the whole world. Better than flying, better than x-ray vision, I had the power to have sex anytime, anyplace, and with anybody I wished.