0 comments/ 64115 views/ 2 favorites Sex on the Brain Ch. 01 By: ProfessorR by Richard Williams Copyright 2004, All rights reserved Contributed by Richard Williams for the enjoyment of Literotica's readers. This fictional story is copyrighted and may only be used for your personal pleasure. It may not be sold, distributed, or posted on another website without the author's permission. Case 96-1 Sex on the Brain - Part 1 by Prof. Richard W. (formerly of the University of ____________) Ginna: This is a report on a very pleasant, but disconcerting, set of experiences which I have been through. As you know, I cannot get it published in any of the respectable journals, but perhaps you will enjoy it. Even though it is out of your field of aeronautics, I know that with your various private interests that you will be able to take deep pleasure from this incident. I also know that you have been among my few defenders as I struggle with this envy-attack from my department head. There is much agreement among the experts that our brains are the most important, influential organs of our sex life. You have heard that said, and you are seeing it in action right now as you fill in all the assumptions and presuppositions needed to make sense of my writing. You know, too, how your brain picks and chooses from old experiences to fill in gaps in new information. [This is awfully basic, I know, but I hope that you won't mind my thinking out loud as I write this. I just have to get it down on paper.] Anyway, for example, if I say "Tom Dinkens" you will immediately recall that big football player who you took home for some extra credit. If I say "Tom, you didn't do your home work again!" you will enjoy thinking of that paddling game with him, and so forth. I can see you grinning at that, eh? So we're comfortable with the idea that when we think about someone out of our past experiences, we have a lot of background information on them. We even use that to sketch new people or situations. If I tell you that my nephew Wilson is going to come up to your school, you probably will not be more than mildly interested, especially given the name he was stuck with. But if I tell you that my nephew Wilson, who really reminds me A LOT of that Tom Dinkens fellow, will be coming, I can see you blushing with interest right now. In fact, I can imagine that blush going all the way down, so that you are feeling wet even before I get into my report. But, and here is the interesting part, what happens if you suddenly realize that you know things or perhaps understand things which you did not already gather through experience. What if those things just appeared in your brain? That is what I am writing you about. THE PREPARATIONS I am not sure if you recall Jeanne Yvette Boudreaux. She is the older student from northern Louisiana who was in my Parapsychological Investigations seminar last year. You met her just once, when Tom drove you down for the Federal Grantsmanship seminar. Yes, the time when you introduced him to the Regional Administrator in her room at the Holiday Inn with a wink and a nod, and then took off for the library for a few hours! I remember teasing that story out of you. She did approve that grant for your department did she not? Yes, as you suspected, Jeanne and I were sort of lovers that semester, but I never had the chance to tell you how it came to be. That was after the campaign to kick me out had been hinted at, and so I was on my best behavior. Some student unintentionally played a part, though-- he stuck a couple of art postcards in between the PSI cards with which I was testing her for extra-sensory perception. They were of romantic nude scenes, gods and goddesses about to mate, that sort of thing. As Jeanne was not aware that it was a sophomore joke, she began focusing on the pictures in the same way that she had so earnestly focused on the little squares, triangles, arrows, etc. of the psychic test cards. As she did, I began to become aware of her sensuality, noticed the reddish tint of her auburn hair, and found myself thinking of her joining me in bed. Even if I was not planning on saying anything to Jeanne, it was fun to imagine that happening, and so as she proceeded through the other cards, I let my mind wander with her. She had said nothing about the erotic cards. You can imagine my surprise as I focused on her going through the motions with the cards, when I felt a tremendous wave move through me. I adjusted myself. She put down the cards and looked up at me. "Professor," she sighed, "I guess I'm going to have to do something about that hard-on, because the way it is now, you are keeping me from concentrating on this test." I must have blustered something about "...how could you know....?" "You are filling my mind with erotic images-- they're overflowing from your mind to mine, I suppose." She undid one button on her blouse. The lace seduction of the curve in her breast hinted at sensuous secrets still covered. "I'll just loosen up my clothing and we'll do it right here." "No, Jeanne!" I struggled to get that out. "Uh, I'm trying to give up sex with students these days, in case you've heard anything to the contrary." "Professor, I'm a 41-year old married woman, I'm not one of your not so innocent 20-year olds. There isn't such a thing as giving up sex with me. If I want to have you, I'm going to have you. I'm not interested in the politics of that, I can get that at the dinner table from my jerk of a husband." "What if I don't want to be had?" I edged back in my chair. Jeanne did the same, but it was to let me see her crossed legs in their black stockings. My eyes automatically slid up to her skirt. "Richard," she purred now, "you probably wonder whether my panties complement these stockings. I have news for you... I'm not wearing any panties." She grinned at me as she rose from her chair. I felt a surge, and my penis dampened my briefs with an urgent supply of softening fluid. "You don't believe me do you!" She seemed more amused than angry as she made that observation. "Just relax right there, and let's think about it." She stood in front of me, leaning against a partition with her right hand, and leaning slightly forward, her legs planted apart. She closed her eyes slowly, and puckered her lips as if to kiss, but it was in the air above me. Gently at first, and then with mounting energy, she began to grind her hips... and, as she did so, I could not help but imagine her closing around me. She reached under her skirt with her left hand, raising it enough so that she could be comfortable... and so that I saw that she was not kidding about having come panty-less. Her motions, or perhaps her thoughts, were simply perfect. I glanced at my desk drawer, and she must have caught the movement of my eyes. "Your condoms, yes, they're in the drawer. Why don't you put one on? You will need it in a few minutes." It must have been my eye motion, she just guessed that, I told myself. I slid the drawer open and pulled out the selection which I had kept handy for conferences with some of my female students. "The plain Trojans, Professor, they'll do...." Jeanne smiled as I rummaged through the little packages. Had she looked over and seen them? How was it that she knew what I was looking at? I wondered what her game was, but it certainly was fun playing along. I unzipped myself and worked my straining manhood free. Unfettered, I rose rapidly, and easily rolled the old-fashioned, unlubricated latex over my tip and up to my wiry brown curls. I was not even sure why I kept these around, since the typical office conference sex with my students was too hurried to go without lubrication. My attention returned to the mature woman swaying sensuously before me, her eyes half-closed as if in a trance. I rose from my chair to move to her. "No!" she commanded. "You didn't believe that this was in our heads, did you? Let's find out... in the interests of science, of course." She continued swaying. "Perhaps you would answer some questions for me." "Uh, sure...." I stumbled, not knowing where this was leading. "I know that you have had many women, and that they have enjoyed you, and you them, but which one meant the most to you? You needn't answer that, just think of her...." I could not help flashing to Meg, the woman who I had truly loved, and all the images of our wonderful time at the Oregon Coast came streaming into my mind. "And now, as you think of her, the image of her that is strongest will come to your attention..... and I see her in bright stripes of some color... interesting... not flowers, but bold colors...." How could Jeanne know that I had thought of Meg in her band uniform jacket and swashbuckling cummerbund, the way that she had come to me when we first made love? As I thought of what she had said, my image of Meg coming toward me in that surprising outfit became stronger and stronger. "The more you think about her, the more excited you are becoming, Professor. I can see the ocean waves are carrying your thoughts to her. Can you imagine anything more exciting than being with her right now? Perhaps something twice as exciting?" She drew the last phrase out in a tantalizing way. What could be twice as exciting? I started to tell her that nothing could be twice as exciting, and then a strangely beautiful thought came to my mind. I closed my eyes, and Jeanne and Meg were both with me. Meg kissed me tenderly over my chest, leaning over me in a way that kept her breasts pressed against my back-- and Jeanne knelt over me and began to guide my staff into her hungry femininity. I tried to tell myself that this was not really happening, and it was not of course, but I did hear Jeanne's calm words evolving into breathless passion.... "the more you think about her.... the more excited you will... come!" And I felt the hopelessness of holding back, and it would feel so good to let go, and suddenly the condom bulged with my flood. I blinked, and saw Jeanne before me, urgently stroking her clitoris, taking herself into a shuddering orgasm. "Wow!" I finally was able to exclaim, with a sigh. "How did that happen?" "I can't completely explain it, but somehow when I concentrate on thinking of someone, I end up thinking with them. I can feel some things that they are feeling, and get some ideas from them... or perhaps give them some ideas." "But," and I asked the million-dollar question, "how much detail can you pick up that way?" Jeanne laughed. "No, I can't read poker hands, Professor! This is not very commercially useful. It can even be a nuisance or a sorrow at times, just depending on what is happening." "So you can deal with simple things, like me thinking about whether a condom is plain or lubricated, but not the expiry dates stamped on them?" I was still trying to narrow down her ability into some sort of category. "Not even that way. I could tell if you thought it was simple or fancy, perhaps that's the best way to put it." She said this slowly and smiled. "Well, if you would like to talk with me about this, I want to know more, you can see that. Uhhh," and I paused awkwardly, "and as you can see, I need to do something with this condom." "Of course!" She grinned and straightened herself up. We spent a few minutes finishing up the PSI test. Interestingly, she scored no better than many in her demographic group. It really was not getting at the ability which Jeanne had just demonstrated. And that she was perfecting. I used the word "perfecting" intentionally, because as we chatted, I learned that she was only gradually becoming aware of what she could do with it. With me and in many other cases, it had a sexual edge-- partly because I had been thinking about sex, but also because it seemed to be a talent which was developing as she had less and less sex at home. She outlined her situation as I hurriedly took notes. This ability was something of which she only gradually was becoming aware. There was nothing peculiar about her background, except that she could recall a couple of off-hand remarks by her grandmother to her mother about "how things seemed to even out as we go along...." This made no sense to her at the time. Married with only limited sexual experience beforehand, she had begun her sexual life with enthusiasm, read articles about it, took hints from friends. Their baby daughter, now a teenager, was a beautiful result. Things seemed to be going well, but over time, the typical problems emerged. She and her husband were still together, and she wanted to keep it that way, if at all possible. But in the middle of the night, she found herself waking up wanting something more. Ginna, as you and I have discussed, that is not uncommon. You told me how much pleasure it gave you to visualize a man who interested you, to feel that you are with him, and to do that so intensely that in your orgasm you feel that he is truly with you. And, as you pointed out, when the time comes to actually take him as a lover, you are just enjoying re-enacting something which you know has already happened. Jeanne began with that, but as she grew more comfortable with the experience, it took an interesting twist. This phenomenon began to take shape, in which she could seem to merge her thoughts with the person she was thinking of. It first came to her that this was more than a pleasant fantasy when she had given herself a wee hours diversion with thoughts of the student intern in her office while her husband snored next to her. Gil was a slender and tall basketball player, who was just getting control of his body. Sometimes he moved so gracefully that women drew in their breath, and then at other times, he fell over the furniture. Somehow, that night she found herself enjoying the contrast of his ebony skin against her paleness, and as she drowsily savored bringing him to a climax, imagined that they would meet for lunch that day and just enjoy sharing in each other's company while talking about work topics. She drifted off to sleep with a smile and thought no more about the idea. You can imagine her surprise when Gil turned up at her desk at 11:45 with his letterman's jacket on, sure that she had told him the day before to be there for lunch. Of course, she made time available for that, and as they ate, gently worked around the edges in conversation to find out why he had thought that they had a lunch date. It became clear that he had no recollection, but it had just seemed like a good idea. And it was-- she really had a positive feeling about their conversation, and discovered that she could help him with some career advice. With some trial and error, she had arrived at the point where I met her. In fact, these experiences were what led her to take my course. She was beginning to think that she understood her grandmother's oblique references, and she wanted some professional assistance in working out the scope of it. It seemed like her mind was developing new abilities to offset the lack of attention in her own sex life. Things were evening out, as her grandmother had put it. "Jeanne," I interrupted her. This is a lot of information to digest... and speaking of that, we used up a lot of energy just now... and it's lunch time. We should get something to eat, and continue this discussion. Have you tried Ginza Express?" "I was hoping you would say that!" Jeanne grinned. I thought for a moment about what she said, and then exploded. "Are you kidding, or are you trying to tell me that you wanted to go there already?" This stuff could still be a coincidence, I told myself. "Let's get some food, Professor, before you get cranky. And we can try some little experiments along the way." Ginza Express has a window where you can sit at a counter looking out onto the street, but the window is tinted so that people really cannot see in. Jeanne and I talked more about her family life as we people-watched and I told her some things about my how my research project was coming. I was doing fine, holding the rice between the chopsticks, although thinking of Jeanne I imagined my fingers caressing her clitoris between them just in the same way-- firmly, but not too tight. It was fun remembering our strange moment together, and I thought that was it. I wondered if I was thinking about her clitoris so much because I was getting horny, or because she was sharing her thoughts with me. How could I know? But suddenly, something really strange and exciting happened. A young woman in a green blouse and black slacks came walking by with what I guess was her boyfriend. She looked a bit irked at him and was explaining something to him. I didn't think too much about it, but noticed that they stopped at the campus bus stop a little ways away from the restaurant, and she stood with her back to me. She and he were still arguing about something. She was pleasantly attractive, and I thought that it would be great if she were to turn so that I could see her in profile. She did! Almost in a whisper, Jeanne murmured that to me that she and I could be on the same wavelength with this girl, and that she could enter her mind subconsciously, and that she might start to do what I wanted her to do. And as that thought penetrated into my subconscious, the unaware target of our curiosity turned further, maneuvering her boyfriend out of the way. Of course, then I wanted to see her walk past me, and sure enough, she did. He came dragging along. It was a lot of fun, imagining that Jeanne was guiding her. The young woman paused, and used the mirrored window of the restaurant to check her hair, and then they were on their way. "That could have happened anyway," I whispered to Jeanne. She nodded and made no comment. She was looking over my shoulder. Two well-dressed women brought their trays over from the direction where Jeanne had been looking. They sat down next to me and started talking about the guys in their office. They were embarrassingly candid, and I must have blushed a bit. "Want to hear more from them?" Jeanne whispered on my right. On my left, I learned that Linda, some coworker of theirs, bought all her office clothes from the Victoria's Secret catalog. "Let me try something else..." Jeanne whispered again. She picked up her chopsticks and snared a square of tofu from her Miso soup. And held it to her tongue just closely enough that she could let her tongue move back and forth over it. On my left, the two office ladies began discussing the ins and outs of oral sex. I turned to Jeanne, and saw her off somewhere in a near-trance, tonguing the tofu. She balanced it on the tip of her tongue for a moment, then swallowed. "Jack Simpson's dick would taste good just about now!" I heard that on my left as I swallowed hard. The other woman on my left laughed throatily, as the two of them rose and walked out. Jeanne sighed a tired sigh, and nearly folded up on me. I grabbed her so that she would not fall off the counter stool, and insisted to her, in an almost belligerent tone, that this could still be total coincidence. "Maybe those women talk like that all the time! I don't know them. I can't prove anything about what just happened." I was steaming, partly because I wanted to believe what I had just seen and heard, and partly because I knew that there was nothing scientific about the experience. "I know that you want to categorize this experience and quantify it, Professor...." "Call me Richard," I interrupted. It seemed that after watching me masturbate at her suggestion, that we might be a bit less formal with each other. "...but, Richard, I don't understand what it is myself yet. And the results are not very predictable. Sometimes nothing happens, or nothing that I can see." We were finished with lunch, and with this demonstration. Somehow, we wandered back to my office and found ourselves standing very close, with the door closed. Sex on the Brain Ch. 01 Wordlessly, we embraced, and I felt the joy of her molding herself to me. I kissed her, and her lips parted readily, softly accepting me. My right hand was on her breast, as I held her around the waist with my left. She purred as I began to caress her, enjoying the moment in which I would find her perfect rhythm and guide her into complete readiness for my entry. And then she drew away! "Richard, I'm not ready for this." She paused. "I have too many responsibilities at home. I have to go now! But I do find the thought very sweet... very appealing." "What are we going to do about this then?" I posed the question to her, since she so clearly wanted to go further. She reflected quietly for a minute in my arms, while I looked into her eyes. "What time will you be in bed tonight?" She stayed in my arms, rising on her toes so that she could whisper this, letting her warmth surround my restrained erection. I told her when I usually went to bed, and when I did that, she drew away and was off in a hurry down the hall. The rest of the day was unusually quiet, with no one in to see me. I was very productive as I sublimated my desire for Jeanne into an office housecleaning. It was not really till I had stretched out in bed that all the pieces begin to fall together. I had been so busy that even answering e-mail from several of my former students/lovers did not seem to have turned me on. Ginna, I know that you enjoy that, too-- it's so interesting seeing what they are doing in life after the university experience. You can also imagine why it was odd that I was so unaffected by doing this, as your mind brings them back to the times when you had them, and you know how good that remembering feels. Now, I supposed that was catching up with me, for as I lay there, I did not sleep. On my back, it was easy for my manhood to loll around, filling out so gradually that it first I did not notice it. I guess it really was not until I felt my penis lifting willfully off my tummy that I understood how horny the day had left me. Of course, it was Jeanne who I thought most of at that point, as my balls rolled urgently now. I found that my hands moved without plan on my part, as if they offered a lover's exploring touch. She took shape in my mind, descending over me, bending down to brush her hair across my face, capturing me between hot thighs, opening for me, deeper and deeper. And then I exploded, inside her I thought, squeezing as hard as I could to throw my self up into her. "Richard!" She sighed as her own orgasm shuddered into little fits and starts. She smiled lovingly down at me. I awoke, or rather came out of my trance, with warm cum strung far across my belly. If the bed had not been cold next to me, I would have expected to find her there. Her presence was still in the room. The next day, Jeanne was back in the lab to assist me with another experiment-- an officially programmed one, I should note. As we went about our work of setting things up for the test subject, I kept eyeing her, and she smiled seraphically. In fact, she smiled like a woman who knew things about me that could only be learned in bed. "Richard!" She sighed as we passed close to each other, and the tone was a duplicate of what I had imagined, or still told myself that I had imagined. "You still don't believe me, do you?" She said that with a resigned, bemused expression. "The more that we communicate with each other, the better I will get at contacting you. Do you need another example?" "I'm not sure what that could be. You're taking this way past anything that I have pinned down in tests." I knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out of my mouth. Jeanne's eyes grew wide for a moment, and then she raised her chin defiantly and nodded at me as if to show me that I would be proved wrong. I did not get a chance to re-word that comment as I wanted to, though, because just then our test subject came into the room. Kerry was a cheerleader, and I suppose that causes you to be alert for stereotyping. It is just that Kerry must have tried out for the stereotype team-- she just fit the part too perfectly. Her bouncy, high energy manner, and perennial good humor were a bit much. On the other hand, she was as guileless as anyone could be, unlike her friend Cindy. She worked hard at being beautiful and she applied herself to her studies, too. [1999 editor's note: you may recall that the Professor's later involvement with Cindy led to his conflict with the department chairman, and may have contributed to his forced resignation from the University.] Neither she nor anyone in her circle had yet come to my attention sexually, believe it or not, and I had no reason to suspect that Jeanne knew her. Jeanne lived off-campus as she finished up on a degree program that had started long ago. Kerry had come directly in from college and lived in a sorority [1999 editor's note: the same one that Cindy belonged to.]. While I had not been involved with Kerry, I could not say that I had not noticed her. Aside from her energy, her long, blonde hair caught my eye as it swished back and forth the day I saw her running late to a class. Now, as she entered the room, I realized that her generous bust line was accentuated by a lot of effort that had gone into dieting and exercise. Her pleated skirt hung on carefully formed hips, her sweater came back in a bit from its display of her bosom to show that her waist was satisfyingly slim. Her smile was genuine, but also perfectly formed with straight teeth. I made a mental note of how interesting it was that I was noticing all these things about her. Of course, I was trying to stay clear of involvements with students, but I guessed that it did not hurt to simply enjoy her carefully prepared appearance. She really was not my type, anyway. As you know, I have usually had intellectual involvements with my lovers as much as sexual involvements. Kerry was a serious student, but not really in love with learning. Jeanne helped her to organize herself at the test desk, saying little, and then took her position for the test. "Now, Kerry, Mrs. Boudreaux will be the "transmitter" on this test. Try not to think about seeing her, as she'll be sitting over there behind the screen. I'm going to give her a series of picture cards and you a series of blank cards, and you are to take as long as you want with each image. Sketch a rough picture of what comes to your mind, and then tell us when to begin the next image. Simple enough?" "Yes!" She smiled pertly, smoothing her hair back over her shoulder. "Go ahead and close your eyes for a moment of relaxation." I moved to my chair in front of her. "First, I'll close the blinds and lock the door so that you'll not be interrupted. I'm flipping on the "Test in Progress" light now. Let's just have a quiet time first, and then when I ring this chime on my desk, we'll begin. Okay?" The room was deep in the building, on a light well, and insulated against most sounds. I rang the small chime. Kerry opened her eyes and looked at the blank card for what seemed like a long time, and then drew a banana. She looked inquiringly up at me when she finished, but as I had no idea of which image cards Jeanne was using, I could not respond in any way. "Next image please," she said. After another long pause, she began to draw a picture of a woman eating a banana. I noticed that she was shifting in her chair, and I recorded that in the notes. The next image was of a man eating strawberries. I didn't remember this series of cards. Jeanne, I supposed, had made some of her own. Kerry seemed to be becoming more and more restless. She looked long and hard at the next blank card. "Professor, it would be hard for me to draw this. May I act it out?" Without waiting for my approval, she rose in her chair. A blush began on her face and worked down her neck into her sweater. I could imagine it going further, as now I was aware of the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts. In fact, I was becoming enchanted with the idea of finding out just how perfectly shaped they might be. "I'm very warm," she said matter-of-factly, as she pulled off her sweater. Her racerback bra was very white and very full. Her breasts strained at it as she bent over slightly to slip off the pleated skirt. Her white string bikini was unelaborate, but revealed how much her weight control program and body shaping had paid off. Perhaps my mouth was wide open, but now my brain was fully engaged through well-developed habits in its seduction mode. Even with her clothes coming off, she looked at me shyly, as if having second thoughts, then switched to a bold come-hither that seemed so much older than her yet tender age would suggest. I felt compelled to take her in my arms now, to reassure her that everything would be right, that this bold move of hers would be rewarded with beautiful moments and memories to come. Ginna: I need to excuse myself here and take care of something that has come up. I will drop this in the mail and then offer you the climax of this story in my next letter. -- R To be continued... Sex on the Brain Ch. 02 Copyright 2004, All rights reserved Contributed by Richard Williams for the enjoyment of Literotica's readers. This fictional story is copyrighted and may only be used for your personal pleasure. It may not be sold, distributed, or posted on another website without the author's permission. Case 96-1 Sex on the Brain - Part Two by Prof. Richard W. (formerly of the University of ____________) Ginna: You will find it hard to believe what happened next...! FROM BEHIND THE SCREEN "No, Professor! Don't get the wrong idea!" Kerry drew back from me as I moved to take her in my arms. And then she moved deeper and deeper into a reverie with someone else in mind, in her mind. It was hard to just watch her, sprawling out in the chair. She was kneading her breasts through the white racerback with her left hand while the well-manicured nails of her right hand disappeared into her matching string bikini. Her well-toned muscles flexed, lifting her sex towards her own hand, reaching toward the climax which brought out, in despairing, guttural sighs, the name of one of my male students. I must admit that I sat there dumbfounded, my rock hard hard-on pushing against my briefs. From behind the screen, I heard a pleasant, pleasured sigh. It was Jeanne; I had forgotten she was there! She stepped around the screen just far enough to smile at me. Kerry did not notice her at first, as she was busying herself with straightening her bra and then slipping back into her outer clothing. "Well, Professor, I guess that was the last card. Let's find out how I did" Kerry smiled at me as if she had just completed the most ordinary test, and turned to look back where Jeanne was standing... and glowing. Jeanne had the look of a woman who had just enjoyed the most wonderful orgasm herself. "I think that you did very well, Kerry!" Jeanne sashayed towards us. Kerry nodded acceptingly as she heard the older woman's comments. We sat around a table while Jeanne asked Kerry some innocuous questions about how she felt during the session. Kerry had felt rather relaxed, that was all. Then Jeanne winked at me. "And so, Kerry, you and Ralph haven't made love yet, have you?" Ralph was the student whose name Kerry had uttered. I recalled him as a rather shy fellow. Kerry answered without embarassment. "No, actually we haven't... but yes, we will. He has wonderful hands... dating him is fun... but he hasn't asked me yet. I guess it just takes time." "You might find that it is going to happen sooner than you think. When are you seeing him next?" Jeanne probed further. "Tomorrow afternoon. He's going to help me with a math project... but that'll be at the house, and there will be a lot of people around." "This lab isn't booked tomorrow afternoon. Jeanne... Mrs. Boudreaux... and I will be here finishing some things up, but you two can use this testing room. It'll be a lot quieter than at the house." The idea had just popped into my head, but somehow Jeanne was grinning already as I formed the words. "That's great, Professor...yes, thank you!" She turned to leave. "Kerry!" Jeanne spoke firmly, but not very loudly. The young woman turned back toward her. "Yes?" "You have something a bit more romantic in your lingerie drawer than what you wore today, yes?" Again, Jeanne was able to ask the most personal question, and Kerry accepted it with a nod, as if she was already thinking it. "Then you'll wear it tomorrow. It'll be a special day for you and for Ralph." "Yes, Mrs. Boudreaux!" A broad smile flashed across Kerry's face and she licked her lips as she bounced out of the room. I looked at Jeanne for a long time in silence. "It's interesting how often the word "yes" came up in her speech, Jeanne." I asked this in the form of a query more than as a statement. "I was thinking the same thing." Jeanne grinned. "Thinking the same thing, before she said it or after?" I had to know. "Well, I told you that I can't read poker hands. I did find that she felt in a very agreeable mood after what just took place, and that the word "yes" came to her mind without much nudging. I just let that word float around in my mind with her image and what she had shown me of her Ralph." "Are you planning on being here tomorrow afternoon?" "I wouldn't miss it for anything, Professor." She patted my knee. "How strange," I thought, "in a way we've practically been intimate, and this is about all the physical contact we've had." "And perhaps we'll learn more from our experiences to come, Professor." She emphasized the last two words as a command, and then chirped with kissing motions of her lips "Have fun..." And Jeanne walked from the room. I must have absent-mindedly let my manhood straighten out in my briefs while we were talking, and suddenly I had to get it out. I struggled madly to free it as I grabbed for the Kleenex at the same time. That didn't work completely, as the electric charge surged through my balls, and the first burst of hot, ivory power shot over my hand. I managed to catch the succeeding surges, so there was not too much of a mess. Tomorrow would be Jeanne's last day on campus before she returned home to her sexless marriage. I wondered how things would turn out for all of us-- the young lovers and Jeanne and me. DO NOT DISTURB Ginna, you can imagine how much trouble I had sleeping that night. It was as if my mind was carrying the thoughts of all four of us. I could visualize Kerry's self-aroused orgasmic moments. I saw Ralph posing in front of a mirror in his room, enjoying watching his penis swelling, as he could not stop thinking about tomorrow. Jeanne was in my thoughts, too, her smile now more confident than ever, experimenting and being satisfied with more and more intriguing experiences. I could see myself, almost as though I was another person. It seemed that we were all under Jeanne's influence in some manner. That next afternoon, things unfolded pretty much as you might have expected from all that had gone on before. But, as you might also have guessed by now, there were some new quirks. Jeanne and I really did get those papers marked up, partly by starting well before Ralph and Kerry showed up. When they did appear, it was funny, the way that they were blushing... at us, at each other. "Just go ahead in there, you won't hear anything distracting in that room. You'll get a lot done there..." I waved them on, and turned back to Jeanne. "Richard," Jeanne used my first name, "why don't we take a little break now. We can just lean back and relax right here in your study. And... before you get too relaxed, you might want to pull out another of those plain condoms..." I did not know what she was thinking, but I had learned to trust her guidance. "I think that you will find that it will go on now." Again, she emphasized the last words of her sentence as a command, and it did make perfect sense. I was so wound up from the night before, and then with my imagination working when the "Do Not Disturb" light had flashed on the testing room... it made me ready to roll on the rubber. Jeanne rose and locked the door of my study as I squeezed myself into the shield. "Now, let's just relax a bit, and think about our young couple..." And I did just that. It was easy to imagine what they were up to, but as I continued thinking about them, a strange thing happened. You will remember, Ginna, that time when we described our first sexual experiences to each other? Remember how shy I said that I felt? And you said that suddenly you were the eager, hot lover, coaxing your boyfriend out of his briefs. I felt that all over again, I was burning red with embarassment, for no reason. And then, I began to realize that I was sharing Ralph's emotions, that somehow we were in tune with each other. I began to see through his eyes, it seemed. I was imagining that I saw Kerry, peeling off her sweater. Oh, God, she was beautiful, and I/Ralph saw that her breasts were supported in beautiful black velvet. We wanted to grab them, we wanted to be afraid... his anxiety swept over me, and I struggled to fight it off. "Ralph!" I thought. "Kerry likes your slow hands..." and gradually I felt him calming, and a sense of purpose took hold. Every ounce of my maturity and experience had to be piled on his cauldron of testosterone, but with each ounce of my thoughts, he seemed in my imagination to gain a pound of skill. Kerry's tight jeans came off in his strong hands, trailed by kisses no frat boy could have dreamed up. She trembled as he caressed his way back up her thighs to her black velvet thong. No one had ever touched her like that before, I imagined that I heard her say. She drew him between her legs as she leaned forward in the big chair, luring his hands to her bra. There was no struggle... it seemed to melt away like ice cream on the tongue. My fantasy continued, even to the point of being able to imagine myself/himself entering her hungry vagina, of feeling swallowed with eagerness, and of fighting the urgent need for release. Again, I felt myself struggling, having forgotten what it really feels like to be 20 and hard and with a young woman who is all motion and is losing control so quickly herself, so quickly that I/he could feel her fingernails gripping our back, so much in need of feeling filled. Ralph's need and mine converged with Kerry's, and, in the blinding flash of heat, I saw Jeanne, too, bucking in her chair and biting her tongue. The four of us climaxed as one being. QUESTIONS Ginna, I must assume that Kerry and Ralph continued without our help, because Jeanne's mind was occupied now with all the questions I put to her. I was trying madly to write notes, while at the same time piling questions onto questions. It was a long time before our young counterparts came out of the testing room, and when they finally did come up for air, they simply floated past us. Jeanne and I laughed lustily after they were gone. "I think that they have more important things to do than to talk with a couple of old fogies, Professor." Jeanne glowed as she spoke. I probably had an awfully dazed look myself. With them on their way in life, now Jeanne began to answer my questions, and anticipated with answers for questions as yet unasked. JEANNE'S THOUGHTS "Remember, Professor, how I said that I could recall a couple of off-hand remarks by my grandmother to my mother about "how things seemed to even out as we go long..." This made no sense to me at the time. "I've been digging around in old family diaries, and talking with some older women who were younger friends of my grandmother. When I started talking indirectly about what I had begun experiencing, they just nodded their heads, and said things like "so, it's passed to you, eh?" "It seems that among the women of my family line, if they are dead-ended on sex, they develop this countervailing mental ability. It's as if the energy that they are wasting on frustrating dreams gets transferred over to this new cause. I guess Mom and Dad were hot for each other up to the end, so she missed out on this." She paused thoughtfully. "What a choice!..." Jeanne's words trailed off into silence. "But what happens if you interrupt this cycle by having real sex?" I had to ask. "The best that I can tell, it's like having a storage battery drained. It can be recharged again. In fact, Olivia Leclair -- one of my grandmom's friends -- told me that if the "interruption" is intense enough, then when the longing returns later, the ability will be even stronger. But that's just something she heard." "And what do you plan on doing with this knowledge? It seems like you have a real gift just the way things are." I really wanted to know. "I'm not sure yet. After this semester I'm going to be off for a while, and there are a lot of things that I want to think over. "If there's anything that I can help you with, let me know," and I meant that. It was not said as the double entendre that it seemed to offer, and Jeanne took it that way, too. "When I've decided what to do, Professor, I will let you know. For now, dear friend, it'll be good-bye, though." She paused, bent down and kissed me on the forehead as she departed. Her perfume left a hint of flowers behind when she was gone. I only saw her on the campus a few times after that, and was reminded of her mostly by things like turning in the grades for her seminar, and other routine activities. That was enough, of course, to get me thinking, but those times gradually were fewer. STACEY'S MIND IS CHANGED It was not until late August that I heard from Jeanne again. Somehow, I was not surprised, as I had once again found myself thinking about her a great deal, wondering what she was up to. What decision had she come to? Then I was pleasantly surprised to find that she was the focus of some very pleasant wet dreams. For a long time, my needs were being met so well in real life that I recalled few such events. Lately, I had been trying to separate myself from that easy pleasure again, so I should not have been surprised at my body's response. But why Jeanne in my mind? Should it not have been Stacey? Even though I was trying to keep from getting involved with my students, Kerry had made a special request of me, and it was hard to resist. A sorority sister of hers, Stacey had a not so uncommon problem, but she wanted a less common solution. Stacey was from South Carolina, and had a beau back home who expected her to return from our midwestern university setting with her values and her maidenhood intact. Being as full of curiousity about sex as the next woman, she wanted to develop her abilities and feel her values expanding right along with the warm rush of sensation throughout her body, but had some long-term considerations that made her willing to go along with his request-- at least in the literal sense of "keeping her virginity." If that sounded convoluted, then you are right, and convoluted is a good description of what we ended up doing. Kerry, of course, only asked me to "help educate Stacey." Her smile as she asked was big enough to put a broad meaning into those words. And so, one warm afternoon during the first week of classes, just as Stacey climbed from my lap and began to look around my office for her things, my phone rang. Our department secretary had left for the day-- I caught it, even as I began to tuck my shirtwaist back into my pants. Stacy leaned past me to pull her simply perfect bra off my desklamp, and giggled as her small breast grazed my shoulder. "You might want to ask your guest to stay, Professor!" The voice on the other end of the phone was Jeanne's, sounding as knowing as ever. "I guess I shouldn't ask how you knew I had someone else here. Did she give it away with the giggle?" I frowned at Stacey, who pouted her rich little lips at me. And then I paused, "...or did you already know she was here?" "I knew someone was there sharing fun with you. I knew that you weren't working on the budget report." Jeanne's voice was warm and it was good to hear. "What can you tell me about her?" I found my own thoughts full of Jeanne now, even as Stacey began to slip back into her clothes. "She's not real tall... dark hair... just a little more made up than you like... lipstick was just a bit too red... thinks that she's pretty important... kind of a manipulator..." Jeanne tossed out random images as they came to her mind. "You're right on the mark." Stacey slid into her tailored slacks, offering me one last glimpse of her Hi-Kini and then zipping herself up slowly as if to tease me about what I would soon be missing. "Oh, and she's undressing right now." Jeanne had over-reached herself. "No! You're wrong, she's getting dressed..." and my voice trailed off in midstream. A strange look had passed over the almost-modern Southern belle's face, and then a look as if my fingers had just grazed her most sensitive place with a firm, light caress. She tilted her head down, looked at me with burning eyes, and her hand went back to her bra clip. "She's getting undressed, isn't she, Professor?" Jeanne was smiling on the other end of the line. There's still one thing that she hasn't done with you, isn't there?" "At least one," I replied. Stacey was slipping the Hi-Kini down over her well-shaped legs. "Professor, there is one thing that I haven't done with you," Stacey purred as she walked toward me. Her secret curls suddenly seemed to be the place that I should bury the terrific hard-on that I suddenly realized I must deal with. "I don't know why, ah didn't think of this before, when we were kissing everywhere. It would feel soooo good to have you come right inside now, I ahm so ready to receive you." Stacey was sliding into a Southern-fried accent that seemed a bit much. She was also sliding onto my lap, and untucking my shirt again-- this time almost too eagerly. My manhood struggled in my briefs for the moment that she would release it. "This certainly will surprise Carlton back home!" She said it lustily, "and if he doesn't like me the way I'm going to be, that's his problem." She moved toward me as if being pulled forward by her vagina. I sucked in my breath, pulled my mind from Stacy the sudden Southern sex kitten and almost shouted into the phone. "Jeanne, I promised this young woman and her friend Kerry that she was going to stay a virgin, no matter what we did. I know what you are doing. Cut it out!" Jeanne was laughing her head off on the other end. "All I was doing was getting her in touch with her real feelings. I think you will be busy for a minute or seven there... I'll call back." And she hung up. I set the phone receiver down and embraced my hot young apprentice. Somehow, the lust in my mind faded just enough for me to control hers, holding her on my lap so that we could enjoy her sex caressing mine, but without me entering her. She slid up and down against me, sexier than she ever had been, her calculating manner gone, begging me to enter her, trying to wiggle tall enough in the saddle to come down on me. The more we struggled together, though, the closer we came to coming. She began to cry in spoiled-girl frustration at not having her candy. Finally, she was lost in a reverie as I kissed her diamond-hard nipples, and the two of us shot into a mutual orgasm that jetted a sticky trail over her tummy as she squeezed her dripping wet lips against me. "Carlton...!" she murmured, and then opened her eyes. She blushed deeply, from her pale cheeks, down her whisker-burned neck, and on over her chest. "Stacey, You're not so calculating as you thought," I whispered to her. "You really love Carlton, don't you? You want it to be him in you, yes?" I looked into her tearing eyes. "But you do want him, don't you... I mean all the way, yes?" She nodded, now appealingly childlike, as she began blubbering. I felt awkward all of a sudden, and pressed her against my chest for a time. It was getting dark outside. Stacey grew still and stayed in my arms. "Carolina, I think that you will get what you want now." I tilted her head up by holding her chin. "What do you mean?" "I mean that you know enough about yourself now, and you know enough about men now, that Carlton is going to be one hundred percent yours just as soon as you get to him. You're going to be able to have as much of Carlton as you need." I grinned at her, thinking of what was about to happen to poor Carlton. "When you are caressing his penis the way I taught you, or whatever you do, Carlton's views about the need for your virginity are going to change. He's going to want to do something about it just as soon as you guide him to it!" Sex on the Brain Ch. 02 Stacey's eyes brightened, and her chin rose without my help. The old, but new and improved, Stacey was back. "Yes!" she exclaimed, punching the air, and then laughing with me. This time, I was helping her put her clothes back on when my phone rang. It was Jeanne, right on the mark, as if she had followed everything. "How are things coming, Professor?" she giggled in a low, womanly tone. "Uh... I think that you already know, don't you?" I had to ask. She ignored my half-jibe. "Your professional association is meeting in early September in New Orleans, isn't it?" Ginna, you will recall that was the occasion when I delivered the paper on the twins study. I must let you know now that there was more happening in New Orleans than that. "I'll be in New Orleans that same week, staying with my friend Lisa. She's got a big house in the Garden District... do you think that we could get together there?" Jeanne was genuinely asking... I felt no compulsion to decide one way or another. "I wouldn't miss that for anything." I really meant that at the time, but I did not realize how much it would mean. GETTING READY... I DREAM OF JEANNE As you can imagine, my preparations for the conference took more attempts at concentration than usual. On the one hand, I was trying to get the twins study wrapped up, and on the other hand, I kept finding myself thinking of Jeanne. Of course, you would think it natural that pleasant thoughts of her would keep turning up, but this gradually went beyond that. In the first week after Jeanne's call, I found myself thinking about her to the point where I began dreaming of being with her. It was not always sexual, either. I dreamed of doing routine errands with her, too. Then, somewhat to my relief, the dreams slacked off for a while. I got on with my work. In the last two weeks before the conference, as if on a cycle, the dreams and thoughts increased in intensity again. I had to change my schedule in the morning to include masturbating. Otherwise, I could not have concentrated on work. On the other hand, I found it easier than ever to keep from launching involvements with the women around me. On the last Monday night before the conference, I dreamt that, of course, I had let her know when my plane would come in-- she had a warm cozy fire in the fireplace and chilled white wine in the refrigerator-- I walked in and dropped my briefcase and suitcase and approached her warily-- after all, I had not seen her in quite some time. As she approached she held open her arms and I felt intense happiness-- she hugged me and kissed me with every cell and fiber of her being-- I must have seemed like an oasis and she was a drowning woman-- she needed what I had to offer and she greedily took--and took-- rubbed herself all over my proud erection and had the most wonderful climax of her life. The dream, with libidinous thoughts and wild metaphors tumbling over each other in a way that you can see I find difficult to describe, appealed to my vanity, I suppose. And that appealed to my sexuality. I rolled over and awoke-- my erection stood in the way of comfortably turning. Hastily, I grabbed at the Kleenex box, and left the clutches of the dream in the only way that seemed open. As I did, I could feel Jeanne closing tightly around me. COMING INTO THE FRENCH QUARTER As you may recall, the ride in from the New Orleans airport is not very long. Within a few minutes of the ordinary international airport scene, the van entered the dense world of the French Quarter. I was booked at a small hotel there, almost a bed and breakfast, and only a few minutes' walk from Canal Street and the large convention hotel. Some other colleagues had already arrived, and we passed a pleasant evening catching up with each other. I think that you remember Bert Nygaard and Ulla Friedheim. They were doing their "same time next year" relationship again. He is still working in Sweden and she is at an institute in Zossen, going through the secret papers on the German Democratic Republic's experiments with mind control. Bert asked about you, and Ulla gave him an icy look. Then a dazed expression passed over his face and he forgot what he had just asked me. I guess she has found something useful in all those files. Out on the street, couple after couple strolled by. Some were thoroughly entangled with each other, kissing and cuddling as they passed. It was difficult to concentrate on the hotel lobby conversation when I was watching this and wondering about getting in touch with Jeanne. We had not set a time or place to meet. There had been no message waiting at the hotel. And then the phone at the little reception desk/switchboard area rang. "Professor Williams?" The perky dye-blonde behind the desk paged me over the counter. I made a mental note of her nice posture and the way that it showed off her figure, just for future reference. "Yes?" I interrupted Bert's familiar story about the Goteborg sensory enhancement experiments. Blondes, I thought, really did have more fun after participating in that questionable research. "I have a phone call for you. Would you take it on the courtesy phone?" I must have really been smiling, because she bounced a broad grin to me in return as I tried to hurry to the phone while not looking rushed. I grabbed the white phone's handset and announced myself. "Professor, Richard, it's me, Jeanne!" Her words seemed as urgent as my actions. There were street sounds in the background. "Where are you?" "I'm calling from a payphone, I don't have much time yet... my husband will be back out of the gas station men's room in a minute. Just listen... he's going to be dropping me off at my friend Lisa's place out in the Garden District. Could you come over tomorrow? I want to talk with you again... lots of exciting stuff has happened to me... and it'll be fun to get together with you, too." She hastily gave me an address just off St. Charles, told me I could take a trolley out there, to meet her at the house at 7 p.m.. And then she paused, as if thinking deeply, and took on a playful tone: "There's a cute young thing there with you, isn't there?" "Yes... but she's running the reception desk. I'm not interested in anyone but you right now." On a conscious level that was true, I guess, but obviously Jeanne was tapping into a lower level of thought. I glanced over at the dyed-blonde, and realized that she was smiling at me. Her face began to flush, and the color from her rosy cheeks spilled down her neck and into the open collar of her blouse. "Professor, I'm a realist, and I also know that she has..." she paused as she thought... "very attractive... oh, and Jane, don't forget the milk jugs! Hi, Jim, I'll just be a minute. I'm reminding Jane about some stuff at the house." The change in voice, the interjected false message, and the off-mike greeting told me that her husband had returned. Her voice came back, low and hurried... "don't talk, just look at her, you'll see that she has the hots for you; you won't be arriving at my friend's place all horny..." "Bitch, quit yakking! Let's go." I heard her husband over the phone for the first time. He shouted to her, and I could hear the sound of a pick-up truck's engine over-revving. "... you won't be horny, because your innkeeper's daughter is going to take care of you tonight..." I began to object. "... she wants to, and I already know that you want her... she's always wondered what it would be like with an older man... she's thinking that now..." I caught a glimpse of the desk clerk adjusting her bra. It was getting uncomfortable already. "Got to go!... Enjoy!" Jeanne laughed and then hung up. RECOGNIZED AS A CELEBRITY For a moment, I resisted the idea, but my curiousity was aroused. Well, Ginna, you must be laughing by now, because more than that was aroused, yes. I walked over to the check-in desk. My colleagues were eyeing me. "Professor Williams?" The clerk affected a business-like tone, but licked her lips after saying that. I could see her hardened nipples through what I later learned was a very soft bra. "I have some questions regarding your credit card. Would you mind stepping into the office with me?" She almost winked. The young desk clerk and I entered a small inside office, with me enjoying the sway of her hips on the way in. Hurriedly she closed the door behind us. "Professor, I have to confess something." She blushed bright red and looked down over her full breasts to the floor, where her feet shuffled nervously a bit. "Yes?" I could not imagine what it would be. "I've been eavesdropping on your conversation. I know that I shouldn't have, but it was so interesting. You and your friends are talking about some pretty hot stuff. And then, out of the blue, it was like a bell rang... you're THE Professor Williams. You wrote those papers in the Hypnotic Deepening Institute's website, right? The ones reporting on the ancient Egyptian guide to telepathic sex?" She absent-mindedly fingered the top button of her blouse as she blurted this out. "How did you come across those?" I was genuinely curious. "I'm stuck here most of the time helping my dad run this place. We live in a back unit. But the one good thing is that we've got a website, and I handle all that for him. It's boring when I'm on the night shift, and so I surf the web. And I love reading Literoica." She looked up brightly at that. "But how did you get a password for that Institute site? It's restricted to professionals!" I imagined some bulletin board posting it, and having the server run slow as thousands of horny teens tried to read through thick files looking for the non-existent pictures. "I try to keep taking a few classes; someday I'm getting out of here with a degree and a real job. Professor Schatz wrote it on a sticky that he had on his monitor." I was hooked. I did not know her name yet, but she sparkled. "That's very clever! I'd like to talk with you some more... someplace where we have more time..." I felt my voice dropping an octave, and enjoyed the feeling. "I'm off tonight. I'll come to your room. My name is Toni." And so, Ginna, you can imagine what came next. When I returned to my colleagues, it was easy to tell them that I had a credit card problem-- who has not? I had to go back to my room to call the company-- and then as it was getting late, I'd be turning in. "Good night, all!" I knew that it would be time for Bert and Ulla's annual coupling anyway. They were getting edgy about sticking around as it was. Ginna, I know that you enjoy reading my accounts of lovemaking, much as I have enjoyed your reports. However, I am not going to give you every detail on this one-- just the highlights, because really, it was a distraction from the main point of my story. And, I know other people who would not believe me, but you will understand that Toni and I did have a wonderful conversation about her studies, my work, and the work of some of my colleagues. She is trying to determine what major to adopt, and so it really seemed to help her. The sex was naturally all the more beautiful with our minds so connected. To be continued... Sex on the Brain Ch. 03 Contributed by Richard Williams for the enjoyment of Literotica's readers. This fictional story is copyrighted and may only be used for your personal pleasure. It may not be sold, distributed, or posted on another website without the author's permission. Case 96-1 Sex on the Brain - Part Three by Prof. Richard W. (formerly of the University of ____________) Ginna: As I continue the story, I'm enjoying imagining the look on your face as you follow these surprising events! The conversation was conducted by candlelight. The room had an old-fashioned hurricane lantern, and as soon as Toni had gently knocked and I had let her in, she had lit it. She wanted the lights out since her father sometimes took a swing around the halls late at night, and the room had an old-fashioned frosted glass transom over the door. For the same reason, our conversation was almost whispered. From outside, we could hear the fading sounds of party-goers drinking in the streets, and the mournful farewell of a distant ship's horn... sounds that told me I was not in the Midwest anymore. It was beautiful, the way that our thoughts swirled back and forth, even as our bodies prepared for each other. When the inevitable moment came, when words failed us, that is, we rose and undressed each other without false modesty. Ginna, this determined woman looked like she was made for her high-cut briefs, rather than the other way around. She wore them proudly, but the satin already was wet when my caresses glided over it, and she drew in her slim tummy eagerly when I slipped my hand inside. "My clit was throbbing while I talked to you in that office," she whispered. "You won't have any trouble finding it now....." Her voice trailed off into a sigh as I grazed the tip of her femininity with my fingers. Her briefs came off in a flash. I can't honestly say who removed them. Our hands were everywhere on each other, although she did pause long enough to let me grab a condom and roll into it. Once it was ready, that seemed to fire her up even more. Ginna, I think the most important thing to emphasize is what happened as we approached our first mutual climax. My mind absolutely focused on Jeanne. It was as if I was making love to her. And Toni knew some things about me that I had never told her. She whispered teasing thoughts about Stacey as she waggled her glistening, wet cunt at me-- asked me if I might prefer just to stimulate her without coming inside, as I had done with the up-tight sorority woman. And then she laughed, almost sounding like Jeanne, and stretched out to receive me. Once inside, her rhythmic caresses took us quickly over the edge, tenderly surrounding me in a way that I associated more with the pleasure of older women. Afterward, as we lay in King Solomon's style, chatting again, Toni told me that it was the most amazing experience in her life. Not, she underlined, that she was trying to flatter me-- and then she got tangled up, blushing, in trying to explain that she thought that I was "...very good, but I didn't mean it that way, and you know what I meant, don't you?" She gave up for a wave of giggles and sweet blushes down to her cooling nipples. I let Toni know that I understood that something unusual had happened, and that I already knew that it was not something that I had consciously done. She could speak freely with me. I felt her relax in my arms , an advantage of the Solomonic position. Our conversation felt truly intimate now. The other advantage, of course, being that I could let my fingers lazily trace her curves as she spoke. "It was as if I had a spirit guiding me," she softly reported. "Someone was telling me what I could do, I mean, not that I had to, but it just felt right to go along with the guide. And I knew just what to say and do with you." "Had you ever used your vagina muscles that lovely way?" "No! I was surprised, I mean I had read a Cosmo article about it, and tried exercises and so forth, but when I was with my boyfriend, I was always too excited to keep track of stuff like that. WE were always too excited, I should say! He always came before I could really get into experiments." She laughed in a self-kidding way. "Let me take care of that..." she said, and gently she rolled off my condom. None of my lovers had done that for me before. It had never even occurred to me that I would not have to figure out what to do with it. The gesture felt sweet. "I'm the maid in the morning, anyway," whispering throatily now, "so don't worry about it." I lay there watching her in the dancing light, thinking about the amazing events that surrounded my contacts with Jeanne. She returned to me, snuggling now, and asking me to rest my hand on her vagina. It was growing warm again, re-filling with hot excitement. She lay back in my left arm, and let me lead her to another climax through little kisses and the touch of my right hand fingers in sensitive places. My lazy penis, acting sated no more, rose as I guided her to a new ecstasy, and then she knelt and kissed me into another orgasm of my own. This time, we discovered that we were ourselves. Jeanne's presence affected neither of us, and while Toni had enjoyed our first time, she felt proud of the second. "No helping hand on this one!" she chirped. We kissed and cuddled, and I assured her that I would not only respect her in the morning, but that I respected her right now. She is a bright kid. I wrote out the address of your private website, told her about the papers posted there, and gave her some hints on what classes might help advance her interest. She dressed as we finished chatting, and then Toni was gone, as silently as she had come. I lay there for a while, thinking about what Jeanne had said in her hurried phone call, and then I was off to sleep. It was deep and dreamless, except for one point where I awoke to the sound of some co-educational gurgling in what must have been Ulla's or Bert's room. I was rock hard, but it was not from thinking about them-- indeed, it was more amusing than sexy to picture him earnestly humping her. They were so serious about everything! I faded off into sleep again. Up late, and rushing into the shower, the hot water spilling down over me: it made me feel like the day before had been the dream. While Toni had tenderly relieved me of the pressure that had built through my thoughts of Jeanne, the wonderful cycle was starting anew. As the steam rose around me, it gradually clouded my mirror-reflected image seen through the glass shower door. The clear glass had shown me as a man still in decent shape, but with creeping signs of middle-age. They faded in the thickening cloud and the sight of my swelling hard-on slowly emerging from its dark triangle was lost in that same fog. OPENING SESSION The opening session-- I grabbed coffee and an incredibly sticky bun. Ulla and Bert were taking seats at the long row of tables next to mine. Bert leaned over and whispered hoarsely to me: "I know you have an interest in such things..." he paused, and then continued in his unsolicited man-to-man tone, "... four times! Last night, four occurrences!" I did not know what exactly to say to that, so I offered him so more accurate English terms to use. Meticulously, he wrote them down in his notebook. I looked around him and noticed that Ulla was drinking coffee, but that it was having no effect on her. There were big circles around her eyes. At lunchtime, the three of us agreed that this conference seemed to be moving terribly slow. Of course, we had different reasons for thinking that. Time crept on, until the close of the session and the cheerful reminder of the hospitality hour. I had found my mind wandering to Jeanne during every presentation. Bert underlined the importance of visiting the hospitality booths and suites: "You might get lucky and meet someone interesting there. You need to have some fun, too!" Ulla nodded agreement. I begged to be excused, and rushed off to my room. I did not need to explain to them that I was already lucky. ON THE WAY The St. Charles streetcar swung around a curve onto Canal Street and disgorged the first of the evening nightlife crowd coming down from the university. I pushed in with the homebound crowd, being careful not to crush the flowers that I had bought along the street, and found myself standing between student age passengers. There were some business people on the trip, but as experienced riders, they had managed to grab the seats. The car sat there silently for a moment, waiting for time to go, and I could feel the pumping of its air compressor beneath my feet. Everything seemed about as normal as it could, given that I was being packed into a rolling national historic landmark. The 1920's vintage trams, with their woodwork and open windows, carried many stories. No wonder Tennessee Williams had named a play after one of the routes! For a moment, the compressor stopped, and an almost religious silence fell over the passengers. Then the motorman rang the bell, released the air brakes, and applied power all in a big, but smoothly orchestrated crash of sounds, and our little cross-section of humanity was rolling on the steel way toward the Garden District. With a rush of relief at the end to silence, coversation resumed, happily raised above the rumble. It occurred to me that one thing that was normal, and as you can imagine, I was in a state of hyper-awareness, was the reaction of other passengers to my flowers. The men barely noticed. The women, on the other hand, had noticed right away, and everywhere that I looked, I saw smiles through the crowd. I have noticed that phenomenon many times; I had even written a student paper on it ages ago. So, with everything gliding along, I had begun to think that Jeanne was not trying to assert her influence on me or my surroundings-- perhaps she wanted to avoid that? Or was something wrong? My mind began to come up with all kinds of possibilities and I was so concerned, that I did not notice that the pleasant looking, mid-30's woman standing next to me had swayed toward me on the last curve, but had not swayed back. Perhaps, I thought, she is just tired. I stepped discretely a few inches over, nudging the young couple on my other side. At the next stop, the woman swung against me again, and stayed comfortably touching me. All of that time, she seemed unaware of what was happening. It reminded me of Ulla's pheromone experiments, where the women who had milder responses were unaware of their increased enjoyment of touching the male test target. I seemed to be the target. I adjusted my thinking to include the possiblity that in my excitement at heading toward Jeanne, that something in my body language was subconsciously turning her on. But, then I turned and saw that the young couple had let the crowd push themselves into each other. Blissfully unaware of their surroundings, they teased each other with little touches. She brushed a hair off his collar, he touched her hair. She smoothed her free hand over her skirt. Their eyes locked deeply into each other's and their clothes were becoming ever more uncomfortable. No one else seemed to notice their sweet foreplay. Have you ever wondered, when you saw a couple like that, whether they would make it to a private place? I did. They were off at one of the first stops in the Garden District, walking as if glued to each other. I watched as they paused at an arbored gate and embraced, head to toe. The streetcar was underway again as they headed into the garden for the ultimate kiss. I was still arguing with myself about whether Jeanne's influence was being felt, or whether what I was seeing was just a coincidence. Suddenly, the woman who had been grazing against me spoke. "This is my stop, Professor Williams. I hope that you have a nice time here in New Orleans." She said it in a soft Southern drawl. I was startled. "How did you know my name?" She laughed musically. Had Jeanne been at it again? "That's what it says on your tag there," and she pressed a finger against the convention badge on my chest. She laughed once more. In my hurry, I had left my identification pinned to my jacket. Hastily, I unclipped it and stuffed it into my pocket. Red-faced at the tone that I had taken with my question, now I laughed with her. To myself, I pointed out that once again I had jumped to the conclusion that Jeanne was influencing people. "And," she paused and let her tongue ever so slightly touch her lips, "here's my card in case --you have a nice ass-- there is something that I can do for you." She moved away through the crowd, leaving me to learn from her card that she was a private librarian to one of the wealthy families of this well-established port city. She had blurted out her inner opinion without noticing it, it seemed. Now I was back to wondering about Jeanne's part in things again. I have had lots of interesting contacts, but this was one of the more interesting. Her words were perfectly ambiguous, said as if she was not conscious of what she had done, but her actions were not. I almost wondered about that right past my stop. I alighted under great, arching trees, as though in a dream. Behind me, the streetcar rolled away through the green median that the locals called the "neutral ground" on St. Charles. There was still enough light for me to see that I was in a man-arranged world of plants and trees, some almost disguising the large houses of the district. Even had I not seen that, I was conscious of the perfume of flowers and bushes that were alien to me. Of course, back home the flowers were gone for the change of seasons. Here I was floating through them, as if in the sea, carried along by the aromas, and as I let the current of scents carry me along, images of Jeanne began to fill my mind. I was swept up the steps of the grand home-- I could have found it without having the street address. A 16 or 17-year old girl was waiting at the open door. The scents of dinner cooking came out of the house to blend with the plant aromas. SOMETHING FOR EVERYONE "You must be Jeanne's friend, cool!" She was genuinely enthusiastic sounding about it. "She said that you would be here about now." "I am." I introduced myself, "...and you are...?" I looked into the teen's intelligent eyes and found her quite likable. Her casual clothes were perhaps a bit too carefully casual, as if she was going out, but did not want to look like she was. "Merrilee.... I'm Lisa's daughter. Come on in! Neat, flowers, even!" She waved me in, but remained at the door. "I'm waiting for a friend, he and I are going to practice our duet together over at his place." The way that she volunteered it made me think that it was good news. She motioned toward a violin case. A woman about 40 came towards us from a back room. "There's my mom." Merrilee checked on a small overnight bag on the side table by the door and returned to keeping an eye on the street. "Mom, this is Professor Williams," she said over her shoulder. Lisa greeted me enthusiastically, although with a bit of an apology for her daughter's lack of interest. Of course, I understood-- it sounded like something big was happening in her life. "It is!" She grinned understandingly. "David Lafehl had never even noticed her till a few days ago. He's a senior in the music program at her school, and now he wants her to perform in the duet for the holiday concert. He seems like a nice kid, but he was so ABSORBED with his music. Merrilee is looking forward to the music, but I also noticed that she spent an hour getting casual enough for him!" "Mommmmm!" Merrilee moaned at her from the doorway. "Now you're going to Shandra's afterward for the slumber party, right?" "Yessss, Mom! You can call me there, if you really have to." Merrilee had a pained look. I was relieved that the overnight bag was not for her music lesson with David. Lisa motioned me toward a room further into the house, and I followed her, with but one backward glance at radiantly casual Merrilee. I wondered again about Jeanne's influence. Our hostess (or was she our co-conspirator?) opened an elaborately decorated door. GREEN SATIN, AUBURN HAIR Jeanne was waiting for me there in the study. Her green satin dress set off the suppressed fire in her auburn hair. She glowed against the rich, but dull colors of the leather-bound books of the library. "Richard! It's good to see you!" She walked forward to embrace me, her mature curves showing off as the fabric of her dress caught the light. We held each other for a moment as friends, and then slipped into the tender intimate hug of lovers. Lisa cleared her throat. "Ahem! I almost have dinner ready for us. I'll take those flowers and just check on a couple of things..." and she left the room. Jeanne and I had barely noticed. We sat down on a dark, leather couch in the library and let our words tumble all over each other's. Somehow, we got a conversation underway. I was eager to find out how her career situation was going, but I also wanted to know about things on the domestic side. Our excited chatter calmed down into a serious consideration of how things had evolved with her husband, but just as it began to take shape in my mind, the doorbell rang. Lisa rushed through the room. "Derek!" We heard a muffled greeting. "Derek?" I raised an eyebrow. "He's Lisa's other dinner guest." Jeanne explained that he was an Englishman, just here for a three-month engineering project in the office that Lisa managed. Lisa wanted to get to know him socially, but time on his visa was running out, and he seemed at a loss for words with her. He did not seem to be married, or gay, or... Jeanne said that Lisa had finally just concluded that he was shy. Somehow, the dinner party with another couple had made things okay for him to come tonight-- or perhaps, from the smile on Jeanne's face, she had influenced his decision. Derek's entry with Lisa into the library lead to another round of introductions, hand-shaking, and small talk. He looked relieved to see me, and began to relax a bit. As the conversation evolved, it occurred to me that even if a quiet evening with dinner was all that was on the menu, it would make for pleasant memories. And then it was time to head into the dining room. The sensual flavors of the New Orleans table greeted us. Lisa had blended some of the Spezialteller of her North German homeland with Creole dishes, and the results were splendid. Of course, the markets in New Orleans gave her lots to choose from, she explained. The taste was so fresh that I expected to see the oysters jump out of the bisque. Perhaps it was the food, perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was... Jeanne. As you can guess, even as I enjoyed the fruits of the sea, something in the back of my head kept telling me to watch Jeanne. But there was nothing more than an appropriate smile for me as dinner drew to a close. Lisa lured us back to the library with the trailing aroma of a silver tray bearing china cups and a pot of the chicory/coffee blend from the French Market. I guess it was as she began pouring that I began spotting what might have been Jeanne's work. Lisa paused for a moment in mid-movement, as though remembering something that she had forgotten a while ago. It had come to me that this was the only noticeable symptom of the reach of her mind entering another. Then she turned toward me, and leaned over to pour, not in a ladylike way at all. Perhaps I forgot to mention that Lisa had an ample bust. I am not very good at estimating sizes, but she would have been striking without leaning over. I glanced at Jeanne, and saw the spreading smile on her face. "Just watch!" her expression seemed to say. Lisa turned to pour for Derek. Sex on the Brain Ch. 03 His eyes riveted to the pleasant valley that opened up before him; he looked without any show of shyness. I saw his tongue dart to wet his lips. Lisa slowly attended to his cup, with sensual care. "Sugar?" The word took on new meaning. "Yes!... er, yes." Derek fought for his composure. "Ready to cream?" I thought that he would leap out of the chair at that moment, but instead he crossed his legs tightly, and held on to the arms of the chair. He managed a strangled approval. Lisa poured the thick, rich stuff out carefully, yet spilled a bit of it. "Oh!" she almost-whispered, and she touched a finger to it, and then licked the sweet stickiness off. She blushed. "That's really not very good manners, is it, but it's good to have every drop enjoyed." Derek shifted uneasily in his chair. Lisa stood before him for a moment, absent-mindedly pressing her skirt down her thighs. Her hands moved as though to touch him, but did not cross the barrier. "Oh... I am so absent-minded lately, I have some cookies that I think you'll like!" Derek, and Jeanne and I, murmured that we were sure that she did. "But they're on the top of a cupboard in the pantry. I used a stepbox to get up high enough to keep them out of Merrilee's reach. If I had left them out, they'd have been too easy to get at." "Of course," Derek agreed. "Let me help you get them out." He rose to join Lisa on the way through the swinging door into the pantry. Jeanne looked at me, and laughed as she saw my own amusement. "Are they coming back?" I queried her. "I was looking forward to her cookies.... you rascal......!" Jeanne adopted a look of pained innocence. "Have a few sips of that coffee, and then let me give you a tour of the house. I think that her cookies are going to keep Derek very busy for a while." She set down her own cup for a moment, and calmly closed her eyes. "Let me take a moment to make sure that they'll stay busy...." her voice drifted off as she went into something of a trance. I observed, for scientific reasons, of course, that her nipples took strongly defined shape under the green satin. HIS HANDS IN HER PANTRY There was a loud giggle and hearty laughter from the kitchen. "Derek.......mmmmmphhh...." Lisa's voice was strong, and then faded into a tender murmur that must have been lost in a kiss. We could hear the sound of the pantry worktable being hastily cleared. Flatware clattered to the floor, and we heard the sound of a plastic measuring cup skittering off the table and across the pantry. "And now what do we do next?" I looked quizically at Jeanne. She paused, and then smiled a Mona Lisa smile. And then, calmly, as if choosing her words carefully, she began to speak. They were words that she had thought deeply about for some time. "You've been wonderful with me through this discovery, developing this power, whatever it is. There is just one more thing left that you can help me with, though." Her lips were pursed, nervously and seductively at once. I could not imagine what was coming next. "I'd like to make love with you....." My eyebrows went up. "I mean, really do it, not just fantasize. I want what Olivia said would happen, and I know that you have the experience to be able to do that." "What is your husband going to think of that?" I had to ask. "A lot of things have become clearer since I worked with you. I can explain more later, but I've made a whole string of decisions, and what he thinks is no longer a concern of mine. Right now, what you think is." "Given all this stimulation, you could probably make me think whatever you wanted." Yeah, I had to say that, too. Jeanne's face took on a profoundly thoughtful look. "Perhaps, but then I'd never know what it really is like with you. And, I'm not sure if Olivia's theory would work if I was manipulating you. I'd like to do it the old-fashioned way." She rose from her chair. Her nipples were erect again, pushing toward me, as she walked into my arms. CONFESSION "Just so you know, when we were working together, there was more than once that I had to put my sweater back on. It wasn't the chill in the lab. I had to hide my very erect nipples. You do make it very difficult to concentrate on work. And there were times when we spoke later on, that all I wanted to do was go through the phone and find myself in yur arms. But everything wasn't just right then. I was still confused, and now, now I know exactly what I want and need to have." There were loud sighs from two genders out of the pantry. "Let's start right here. We're not going to be interrupted." Our mouths closed on each other. She could feel my answer hard against her in our tight embrace. Ginna, as you must be strongly imagining now, the barriers between us had to disappear quickly. We were on the leather couch in a lightning flash, with our clothing in wild disarray. Her lightweight bra, which had been barely there anyway, was still hanging loosely from her shoulders as she knelt over me. I had just enough time to reach around and unclip it before being lost in the tangle of our lust. It dangled to and fro as we struggled to free my penis. "It's okay, I haven't been with him in ages, and I know that you're okay....." She answered my question before I could reach to find a condom. My briefs slipped free of my thighs, and she knelt to kiss my rapidly rising penis. Our explosion there came too soon for both of us, even in spite of the experience that I had shared with the adventurous young Toni. The pent-up feelings that we released overwhelmed us both. As I lay back catching my breath, with Jeanne hovering over me, we could feel that each other's heat was not subsiding. She caressed my unwinding manhood with her curls, and shivered as her sensitive clitoris grazed its soft, developing ridges. "Shall we take a little tour of the house?" Jeanne's question was a command in its sensual tone. Then she paused; a deep look crossed her face. A shout from the pantry-- "Derek, yes, again!!!" We would not be missed. "Any particular rooms that we should get to first?" I found that the words came out easily. She just threw her head back in a way that flashed her auburn hair's color at me, and rose to begin gathering our things. The two of us hunted around for our clothes, and went up the grand staircase with a mish-mash apiece. We must have looked funny, had anyone seen us, as we still had on part of our things. The curve of Jeanne's hips ahead of me on the stairs came out sensually from under the dangling straps of her bra. UP THE STAIRCASE AT LAST "The Carreville bedroom.... they say that the Colonel was quite a lover in his time. Perhaps he'll inspire us." I was not sure if she was teasing or not-- it did not matter. "And besides," she added, "I left something in the dressing room there." The room, decorated in turn-of-the-last century opulence, opened off of a large center hall. Inside, Jeanne was suddenly quiet and demure, disappearing into a side dressing room. I pulled off the rest of my bedraggled clothing, and tried to sort our things out. It was probably only a few moments, but it seemed like ages before Jeanne came out. She paused, as if a model, to let me enjoy the effect. Her charms were covered by a black satin robe-- it clung to her curves with just the right amount of shape. It was perfect. She was perfect. She walked to the curtains and held them aside for me. With the window ajar, we were floating in the cloud of floral aromas that drifted in. Quiet neighborhood avenues outside seemed to be unoccupied, although distant clangs of trolley bells reminded us that civilization was lurking just beyond the garden walls. I came up behind Jeanne and undid her robe from behind and began caressing her tender breasts, her stomach and her mound. She could feel my hardness forming against her hips and waist, and laid back against me and kissed my neck and held me around the neck. We stayed like that for long seconds. THE SURRENDER Mrs. Boudreaux turned and strode toward the canopied bed. The satin flowed back behind her, flashing back and forth from the pinkness of her skin. I caught up with her, and swept my hands over her shoulders. Her arms went back, slipping the robe off in a motion of total surrender. Ginna, you won't believe it, but from somewhere I found the energy to lift her into the bed. I haven't done that since-- well, you should remember when! This time, Jeanne stretched back on the pillows and became the Southern belle, shyly covering her pretend maidenhood with a graceful hand. It stayed in place only until reached by kisses, and then it switched from tender opposition to lusty encouragement, and the once neglected and put-down Mrs. Jeanne Yvette Boudreaux opened herself anew as the sought after sex diva that she really should be. I did not ask myself more questions. I should have wondered why I was so hard already, but all I knew is that I must descend into her being, become a part of her life, now. "I have to have you inside of me!" Jeanne's words were deep and almost guttural. She put me there.... and we climaxed together in torrents... Ginna, we spent the night like that. Derek and Lisa never surfaced till we all went down to breakfast at about the same time. We talked together at the breakfast table as though nothing had happened, although there was lots of hand-holding and touching. "I've decided to change my major," Jeanne explained to us. A lot of my psych classes are good for the new specialty anyway. I'm going to become a Domestic Relations Counselor. Yes, I know that used to be Marriage Counseling, but they get into all kinds of relationships now. I was talking about this with my friend Katie, and she came up with this." I nodded my head. It did make sense. Lisa and Derek seemed to agree, though I doubt that they knew why. "I can really influence my clients effectively, and since it's very tempting to use this gift I have anyway, it'd be smart to get the academic side of things down, too so I do the best that I can with it. And besides, people will pay me to help them have fun!" We both laughed at that. Then she turned serious again. She paused, and looked deeply into my eyes. "You and I can never do this again. It would ruin the gift, Olivia says. But Derek and Lisa, on the other hand...." A calm look passed over Jeanne's face. I turned to the other couple. They were getting up from the table, in a rush. I laughed out loud, approvingly, but they did not care one way or the other . Derek's slacks were stretched taut at the crotch. "I need to show Derek some of the rooms before he calls our office about getting his visa stretched out!" Lisa licked her lips as she turned to hurry after him. The End... Or the Beginning?