17 comments/ 189385 views/ 25 favorites The High School Hypnotist Redux By: Zazbek Life has a tendency to get complicated if you give it half a chance. This tendency is even worse if you happen to be screwing at least half of the known world and the other half starts getting nosy. This is not entirely the problem here, but is close enough. The problem started with Jess. God knows I loved her, and still do, but she had a way of getting my attention in unexpected moments that has undoubtedly shortened my life expectancy. An example. I was at the library studying with my friend, Bret, and we were in deep shit because neither of us really gave a damn about the New Deal and couldn't care less who Harry Hopkins might have been, but we had to cram anyway to keep our grade points from sucking wind. On top of that, I was thinking more about graduating than Roosevelt II (The Sequel), and was keeping an eye out for young lovelies as well. Ok. I went back to the stacks to find a musty old book about the WPA and stuff, and as I searched the shelves, my sister sauntered up. She was wearing a pretty sheath skirt that dropped to mid-thigh, maybe, and looked flattering as hell. I'd never seen this skirt before, so I said hi, what are you doing here, great skirt, what's up? She stepped closer, grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me into an alcove, then fastened her lips onto mine and started rooting around in my pants. We were, perhaps, ten feet from people in carrels, but she raised the front of her skirt, started digging in my dungarees until my dong dumped out, and then shoved it against her bare pussy, which was sopping wet and ready. Obviously, this was a well-planned surgical strike. I felt myself slip inside her, and her muscles contracted sharply. She let out a little whimper as my dick rode up on her clit. Her lips fluttered up my neck to my ear, and she whispered "Oh, God, Lee! Mmm, that feels nasty!" She clamped down on me as hard as he could, and then loosened. "Do me fast. I'm almost there!" So, anyway, boom, she was pushing against me for all she was worth, letting loose tiny whines and grunts against my chest. She was trying to muffle herself in my shirt, and it was almost working, but I heard her clearly in the silent library aisle. So I backed her into the alcove against the wall, grasped her ass in both hands and started bonking as hard and fast as I was able, because I just KNEW that someone would show up if we took too long. And if they did, it was likely to be embarrassing as hell: 1) Because there was NO mistaking what we were doing, and 2) Jess was my sister, for God's sake. But we didn't take very long at all, fortunately. She torched off after about three minutes of rampant bonking (sounding, in my ears, like a handcart full of cymbals being emptied down a cement stairwell), and when she settled down, she pulled off, dropped her skirt, and told me to meet her at her friend Stephanie's house. There's a party, you're invited, please bring your dick, sorry about the mess, gotta go! She smiled, flashed her puss, and strode off, hips swaying sexily. In spite of the fact that it took a minute or two for my dick to deflate to the point where it was comfortable back in my pants, I must say that the only deal I was interested in after that had nothing to do with FDR, and it was all I could do to stay and work on that stupid history project. It got worse at Stephanie's party, because as I found out, there were a few complications there as well. Jess was there, as was Steph and her boyfriend. A good many other people were there, too, but I really didn't know them. Fine. Jess pulled me aside and told me she wanted me to entertain at the party, and, if possible, hypnotize a particular girl. She pointed her out. I looked, scared to death that she was going to be a troll, but what I found was not bad, not bad at all. Blond hair, almost golden brown eyes, terrific points and a nice ass. Her legs were good, too, so I wondered immediately what the problem might be. I wondered it out loud, which was a mistake, I can see that now. "Sorority chick. Huge tease. And she doesn't care who or which sex she's teasing." Jess was smiling, but it wasn't a nice smile. "She's been messing with friends of mine, and I want to mess back. And I want you to help." I winced. I couldn't help it. "What do you need me for?" She smiled. "Don't end a sentence with a preposition, sweetie. What do I need you to do?" She smiled wider, and there was a glint in her eye. "I want you to hypnotize her, and I want someone to fuck her, right here in front of everyone." "What gives you the idea that I could do that," I asked, trying to smile innocently. No such luck. She knew pretty certainly that I could do something like that, and it would take some serious work to disabuse her of the notion. I didn't feel the need to do that work, but I needed to see how far she really wanted this all to go. She just stood there and looked at me, smiling a little. I smiled back. "Suppose I were able to do that. Just suppose. Who's the lucky boy...or girl, as the case may be?" "Well, my preference would be some high school sophomore with glasses, but I'm willing to give a little on that. Just make sure that the person is younger and out of her social status." I couldn't help myself. "So, what IS her social status?" "Everyone but her is a loser. You know, the snooty, stuck up perspective of the world." Jess stepped close, and the next was into my ear. "Do this for me, please? You can. I know you can. And I'll make it worth your while...." "I think you already did, over at the library." She kissed my cheek and lightly nibbled my earlobe. "That's sweet, but I can do better. In a heartbeat. Want me here? Right now?" She glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching, and pushed me into an alcove. "You can have me now, if you want. But you gotta help me, ok, Lee?" I kissed her hard, and she melted against me. I thought about pulling her dress off over her head and taking her right there, and then I started thinking with my larger head. "How about I have you later and do this chick now?" She hugged me, and her points into my chest told me that my dick wasn't the only hard thing in the alcove. "Ok, but you have to know what the problems are. First, I'm not even out of high school, for God's sake, and I have no credibility with this crowd." "You look and act old enough, Sparky. You're eighteen, and act about 25." She grinned. "And you fuck like you're 30. Yum." I bowed slightly, then blew her a small kiss. "Fine. There's also the fact that I don't do party hypnotism. I need time alone with the person under circumstances I can control." She looked troubled for an instant. "I thought you were working on that." "I have been, but it's pretty hit and miss. She might tweak, she might not. And if she doesn't, I don't know where to go from there." Jess looked crestfallen. "But I'll try. That's all I can do. But you have to talk me down. Make it seem as though I'm just learning." "Why? Doesn't surprise work better?" "Not in public. People are more willing to let go because they know things will only go so far, because there are witnesses. So they bark some, or pretend to be sheep, or stiffen themselves like a board. The people here will figure I don't know what I'm doing, and they may let their guard down. It might help," I thought for a moment. "Does she like to be the center of attention?" Jess almost choked. "If she's not, she either pouts or MAKES herself the center. The bitch." I thought for a moment. "Ok, go tell them what you're going to ask me to do, and I'm going to grab a beer and try to get my dick calmed down." I wasn't being entirely truthful with my dear sister. If anything, a reputation for being able to hypnotize helps initially, because people who want to be hypnotized give in easier and quicker to someone who knows what they are doing. But with all of the stuff going on in my life, the last thing I needed was suspicion about the whole hypnosis thing. If I was a neophyte, I was safe. I heard voices in the next room laughing and then Rachel walked by. "Lee, how are you? Jess says you're going to hypnotize the party." Now, I had had plans for her for a long time, and even developed an entire method to get her into my bed (with my sister's "willing" help, but it all came to nothing when Rachel went on a debate tour and stayed gone for a month. By the time she came back, I was busy with my last semester in school.) "I'm going to try. Are you going to let me try on you, too?" I had told her the one chance I had with her to forget I had hypnotized her. Since then, I had not been alone with Rachel to test the trigger. I glanced around, motioned her close, and then triggered her. She went, but not very deeply. Quickly, I worked to move her farther into hypnosis, knowing I'd be interrupted in just moments. She went very deep, and I awoke her a couple of times just to test the trigger and the depth of her trance. I couldn't resist. I triggered her again and took her back into the back bathroom. I asked her if she ever masturbated, and she said that she did, that she liked it a lot. She said she liked to use a small vibrator that she could wear while clothed, and that she liked the excitement of knowing she was getting off and no one could ever tell for sure. Yeah, well, so much for that. I told her that she needed to get a shower, that she was very sweaty, and that the water would feel very, very good. She started stripping off quickly, and I almost stopped breathing. My God, the girl was gorgeous. I had seen her before...sort of...but this was better. I had told her to ignore that I was there, and she did. After she had undressed, she did a few stretches, obviously the sort of routine she normally engaged in before soaping off. She stretched upwards, side to side, and then leaned over and grasped her straight legs in her arms, hugging them. Yes, she was some kind of flexible, and I about hurt myself scooting around to catch the view. I had all sorts of plans, and probably would have followed through but for the knock on the door. Someone needed to use the place, and we were backing up the flow...as it were. I told Rachel that the shower had been refreshing, that she felt great, and that she needed to get dressed. I also stressed that she would find me very attractive, and that she should feel safe and uninhibited about touching me, if she wanted to. Then I clicked my trusty clicker and gave her the usual rap about how hot it would make her to see me and hear that. Once she got it together from a clothing perspective, I snuck out, telling her to count to fifty and then follow. I got out without incident, and when Rachel walked by, I woke her up and took her into the kitchen to get a beer. As we walked down the hall, I clicked her and she snuggled into my shoulder and took my hand. Nice. An assortment of people crowded around the refrigerator and a couple of coolers full of beer. And, as usual, the jocks had the kitchen table and held court by one of the coolers. They were playing Hearts and were swearing violently when they misplayed, which appeared to be pretty much constantly. I knew a couple of them and said hidy, but then we moved over to the fridge, where Jess and a couple of her friends were lurking. Jess smiled and handed me a brew, and when no one was looking, licked her lip suggestively. Subtly, though. Could have been involuntary, if you were watching and didn't know her well. Yeah, right. In the meantime, I found a way to strike up a conversation of sorts with the main event herself. As stated, the girl, Amy, was a bit of a snoot. Pretty, but not amazing. She was not Rachel. She was not Jess, either, and while no one thinks higher of Jess than I do, I would be the first to say that she is not pretty, exactly. What she is, is beautiful. Amy was not beautiful, but she was pretty. The difference? Jess is an amazingly vital, vibrant and loving person, and that makes her glow when she smiles. Amy just...smiles. Lots of bright, white teeth, little subtext. Big difference. Huge. I liked the tits a whole big bunch, though. About ten minutes later, the fun began in the living room when some dork stood up and said that some fun was gonna begin and that I'd be it, and that anyone who wanted to be hypnotized should come on in, sit down, and prepare to be have some fun. And stuff. Amy was not one of those people. Not initially. She stayed the center of attention in the kitchen and wouldn't come out to the living room at all. Then, when her audience began drifting out to see whether anyone was acting like a chicken or was fucking a dog, she got her knickers in a twist and came in to watch. Good timing, really, as things got a bit silly. I was not uniformly successful at putting people under, but then I did not expect to be. A couple of people acted like they were in a trance, or what they thought a trance might be like, but they were largely just going along because the stuff I had them do was fun and non-threatening. You know, the old "stiff as a board, hold your arm straight up" kind of thing. No one really twigged, so they may have been deeper than that, but I didn't worry about it. The ones I didn't work further on were ones I didn't want to have anything to do with, anyway. And, sadly, one of the ones I DID want to have something to do with (besides Amy) only went so far, no farther, and then jumped back out. No luck, and too bad, as she was stone gorgeous and unattached. And flirting with her afterwards just a bit did absolutely no good, either. Complete strikeout. On the other hand, there were a couple of young lovelies who had potential. One, named Jamie, was a seriously kinky-haired brunette who was slender, soft, and had BIG brown eyes. Another was Lisa, a pint-sized cute thing with boobies way out of proportion to her size, a tight little apple ass, and a spiky, wicked sense of humor. Finally, there was Cindy, the only high schooler in the bunch. She was, I knew, a little older than I was, around 5'10", very slender with very gentle (not to say non-existent) curves, and had an absolutely incandescent smile. Each of these ladies responded to greater or lesser degrees to the public show (Cindy, in particular, seemed to be the best subject), and each accepted a private trigger that I whispered in her ear at one point or another while they were under. One point of amusement. I gave a guy named Craig the suggestion that his dick could talk, and that what it wanted was pussy. It was pretty funny, especially since I had also told him that everyone around him could hear it. I gave some serious thought to leaving that suggestion active, mostly because Craig was a bastard, anyway, but decided to delete it to keep people from talking. All told, I had been working with 11 people, only seven of whom really went under to any appreciable degree. Again, of those seven, I had three keepers, one dick, and one annoying little know-it-all bimbo that had pissed me off since the seventh grade. Juliet Strasser, a somewhat-chubby big-titted yenta-to-be with attitude, chutzpa, and a big goddamn mouth, was student body vice-president at my high school and head of the student senate; President of the National Honor Society; leader of the student Democratic Party chapter; and, to her way of thinking, the school conscience. As editor of the school paper (it just figured, didn't it?), we would get preached to about our failings, the failings of our government, and the ....blah, blah, blah. Frankly, I had gotten tired of the bluster and the self-importance, but I never thought I'd have an opportunity to do something about it. I don't think I need to spend a lot of time on the suggestions I made that night when I pulled her aside or the couple of times I called her on the phone or stopped her in the hall to amplify and extend things, but the net result was that she got a lot more popular with the guys. The student Democrats gained a bunch of new members, the paper staff got a few new writers, and Juliet got a whole lot more male attention through persuasion, rather than confrontation. As it turns out, teenage boys persuade really well when they are given blowjobs. Lots of them. I must say that student government ran a whole lot less contentiously through to the end of the year than it had previously, and that Juliet was elected Most Likely to Succeed by the seniors. And she lost about twenty pounds by being too busy to tank up on Haagen Dasz. The crowd at the party had a lot of fun and they were beginning to break up into smaller groups and get back after the booze, and then I heard Amy making fun of Craig. It was actually pretty funny, but I also saw an opportunity. As I stepped closer, she was giving Craig sweet, saccharine hell about being weak minded, and everytime he would try to say something, she pretended to hear his dick talking. She wasn't very nice. I glanced across the room, and Jess was watching me closely. What the hell, huh? So I stepped closer. "Actually," I said, "Good subjects for hypnotism tend to be very intelligent and imaginative. A strong mind helps, too." I smiled at her and nodded at him. "Just thought you might want to know." I turned slightly, as if I was intending to walk away, and I felt a small hand on my elbow. "You're kidding, right?" Amy was smiling slightly, expectant. "Nope. The hardest people to hypnotize are not very bright. For some reason, they just can't concentrate enough." The look on Craig's face was priceless. He may have been a dick, but he appreciated having been taken off the hook. "Of course, the fact that someone CAN be hypnotized doesn't necessarily mean they're all that smart, but it seems to help." Craig ducked away into the kitchen, and Amy eyed me closely. Then she turned on her smile, and it was formidable. "What if I asked you to try to hypnotize me? Right now?" I decided to play hard to get. "Actually," I said, "It probably wouldn't work." One of the girls standing nearby laughed and Amy let the veneer slip. Just a titch. She iced the other girl with a bit of a glare, and turned back to me. "Why not," she asked sweetly, wrapping her arms around one of mine, moving in closely. Two things occurred to me at that point: 1. Jess was absolutely right about her; and 2. Those tits were prizewinners. And she wasn't wearing a bra. I smiled back. "Because you have your mind set that you're going to make me fail. You talked about my trying to hypnotize you. It can't work unless you want it to." I disengaged my arm so that I could use my hands to talk. "Hypnotism requires consent. I can't get you to do anything that you don't willingly want to do. If people go under and have their dick talk to them, it's because, for whatever reason, they agreed to do it. I don't always know the reasons why they agree, but they have to." I took a drink of my beer. "For instance, you...I'm sorry, I don't know your name." She smiled brightly. "I'm Amy. Amy Walker." She said it like I should recognize the name, but I kept my face carefully blank. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lee." "You were saying?" She sat on the arm of a couch, still smiling, but very intent. "Yes. I was just finishing a thought. If I tried to hypnotize you, and you decided to let me succeed, you would go into an hypnotic trance. While in that trance, I could talk to you, ask you to see or do things. You would or would not, depending on whether or not you wanted to have those suggestions be true." I sat on a chair and tilted my beer back, finishing it. She leaned in. "Was hypnotism hard to learn?" She feigned grasping for a question. "I mean, can anyone learn to do it?" I smiled. "Sure. The principle is pretty simple, but actually hypnotizing someone is a lot more art than science. There's a knack to it that some people can get and some people can't." I stood and started to walk off. "It's been nice to meet you, Amy." As I expected, she stopped me. The High School Hypnotist Redux She placed herself right in front of me, placed the palms of her hands against my chest, and stood close to me, her face tilted up to mine. "This all sounds so interesting, Lee. Tell me.." She hesitated artfully, and then I knew what was coming. "Is there any chance you'd be willing to show me how you do it?" She stopped, pretended to get embarrassed, and then smiled. "I mean, how you hypnotize people. Would you be willing to teach me about it?" I acted like she expected, smiling. "Sure! Would you really like to? I mean, it wouldn't be boring or anything, but there's a lot to learn and it could take awhile." I smiled wider. "When would you want to start?" She thought for a second. "How about next Monday? I don't have anything on my schedule till later that evening. Want to come by the House?" I thought for a moment. "Actually," I said slowly, "That wouldn't work well. Too much noise around the place, too many distractions. Quiet is better." I perked up. "Look, my house would be fine. No one is around for most of the afternoon and we could make a lot of progress. Is that ok?" She agreed, we set a time, and I told her to bring a notebook and a pen for notes. I made it sound like I was starting to be smitten, but was too shy to push the issue. She smiled, leaned up, kissed my cheek. "Until Monday, then." Then she walked off. I met up with Jess outside. "So?" She was wide-eyed, hopeful. I sighed, shook my head. "I have a student. Cool, huh?" She grinned and hugged me, then backed off to look me in the face. "This makes it easier, right?" "Much," I said. "You know, she is a manipulative little thing, but I can't say she's all that bright." I told her I'd play the situation by ear, and that I wanted her to think about how she wanted to resolve the Amy problem. This earned me an excited kiss, an enthusiastic tit rub, and, a little later in the evening, hot sex in the bathtub at home. I got on with my business and figured that things would all take care of themselves. I was right, of course, but wrong about how, exactly. I'll take this all in turn. I saw Cindy, one of my prospects, the next morning at school before I even got into the building. I was sitting in my car when she walked across the lot in front of me. I honked, motioned her over and asked how she liked what had happened the previous night. She smiled and said it was fun. I asked her to hop in for a minute and we sat and talked for a bit. And then I triggered her. After about 15 minutes of work, I had her pretty much where I wanted her in terms of her being ready to accept suggestions. I told her that she would find me very attractive and that seeing me and hearing my infamous clicker would get her all hot and bothered. And then I asked her what it was that she found sexy. Her eyes were kind of glazed, but she responded surprisingly. "I like to be tied up." Gulp. Well, I certainly wanted to hear more about that. "My brother used to tie me up. He'd do it because I used to follow him everywhere, and then later he did it because I pretended I liked to try and escape. He'd tie me up and I'd lay there for hours, pretending that I was being held for ransom and that my captor would be in soon to have his way with me." She subsided, and then almost purred. "One afternoon, my brother and one of his friends did the tying. Then, when my brother went to the bathroom, his friend felt me up and I just exploded! He got scared off, and because I was gagged, I couldn't tell him I liked it." She paused. "My brother checked out my tits once, sort of. But then he let go and hasn't tied me up since. It's been years." I promised myself that I'd truss her up and fuck her very, very soon. Uh-huh. I woke her up and we talked for a bit longer. Her smile was warmer and she turned to face me on the front seat of my car. I leaned in her direction and put my right hand up to her face. I had my clicker in my left hand and used it twice. Her eyes got a little brighter and she moved a little closer. I moved a bit closer and eased her lips to mine, then clicked twice more. She fastened her lips on mine like she was trying to get air and practically climbed onto my lap. She took my left hand and moved it down onto her tits, holding my palm tightly against them. I took the hint, and began to lightly massage her points, which got her moaning. I kissed her hard, and then started unbuttoning her shirt. As I pointed out, we were in the parking lot, but that didn't seem to bother her at all. I doubt she noticed. Once her shirt was undone, I unclipped her bra and it rode up above her tits, which were tiny but capped with tightly crinkled pink nipples. When I took one on my tongue, she mewled and started reaching for my cock. Keep in mind that she was wearing skin-tight jeans. Also keep in mind that school was very nearly ready to start. People were walking by, most not too near; a few quite close enough to take an interest, if they so chose. Several walked by and observed the action from a distance of about ten feet. Several were people I knew, one being a good bud who, I found out later, had intended to see if he could bum a smoke...and then changed his mind when he saw what else was smoking. He grinned instead, and kept on walking. Cindy's shirt was kind of large on her and it billowed about, making a clear shot at her chest unlikely from a distance, but our movements told it all. There was no doubt that we were rounding third base and heading for home. Which is about when Ms. Tennant, my junior year English teacher, walked by. I caught her out of the corner of my eye, turning up her nose at our display. I moved slightly and looked straight at her. And winked. She looked very shocked and marched off to the building. But just before she went in, I saw her turn back and look in our direction. I had moved out from under the steering wheel by now and Cindy was perched on my lap, grinding her naughty bits against me and licking my ear. I had a deathgrip on her ass, and was increasing the pressure on her snatch against my dick, figuring "what the hell, huh?" I wanted to get my dick inside of her, but the logistics were just wrong. So I thought that the next best thing would be to make her firework off and take further advantage of her another day. So I clicked my clicker a couple more times, and she grabbed her tits and began to maul them and stretch the nipples. At this point, there was no doubt as to what was happening in that car, and had there still been anyone in the parking lot, they would have gotten an eyeful. She was bouncing on my lap like she was riding a pogo stick, whimpering like a wet and lonely puppy. She threw her head back and cried out, grinding her crotch onto my dick and leg and cumming explosively. As she fired off, she pulled her shirt off of her shoulders and arched her back, twisting and twitching. Then she collapsed against my chest and snuggled in against my neck. After a moment, she lazily started to open my shirt and kiss my chest, working her way gently downwards. She looked up at me, smiled wickedly, and started to unlatch my belt. Completely in favor of this, I smiled at her encouragingly and glanced across the parking lot. Ms. Tennant was still where I had seen her before. She hadn't moved and she was still looking in my direction. I waved. She seemed to wake up with a start, then turned quickly and headed into the building. I had just started to wonder what that was all about when Cindy got my dick out and locked her lips onto it. My mind cleared wonderfully at that point, and I concentrated on the talented girl at hand. So to speak. I wondered what Cindy was going to do when I came, but that question was answered when she grabbed an empty McDonalds cup off of the floor and pointed me at that. A moment later, we were zipped up, kind of cleaned up, and were headed to class. She dropped the cup in a trashcan, gave me a kiss, rubbed her tits sharply against my chest, and trotted off to World History. About mid afternoon, as I was putting my books into my locker, Ms. Tennant walked by. I could tell that she was watching me and wanted to say something, but when I turned and looked her up and down carefully, she ducked off. It sort of looked like she was blushing, but I couldn't tell for sure. Which is about the point when Mrs. DeForrest walked over and remarked that she needed to see me about my college applications. Now, if you've been following my story, you'll remember Mrs. DeForrest. She led the way into her office, held the door for me, and then shut it behind us. Click went the doorlock, and her dress, which was circle-tied at the waist, was undone and on the floor in a New York minute. Her white bustier elevated her frankly awesome titties to entirely new levels of tastiness, and wisp of silk over her pussy covered just enough to make everything that showed that much more enticing. For a guidance counselor, she was one hell of a marketing genius; focus on packaging, and wait for customers to flock to your door. And if any other guys in the place had even the slightest inkling what they were missing, they'd be lined up five deep down the hallway. One quick step and she was in my arms. Since she had decided she wasn't going to give me up, she had become freer about her sexuality and a great deal hotter as a result. She kissed me firmly, deeply, and then stepped back. "Ok, now you have to tell me that you love what I'm wearing, or I'm going to feel really silly." The thing is, her taste in underwear had never been so, well, demonstrative previously as it was now. She had gone in for functional and classy rather than maybe-not-so-functional but steamy, and it was nice to see that this particular leopard had changed her spots. She wiggled her hips slightly, a move that I first took for a sexy shimmy, and then I looked into her eyes. She was looking at me with love in her eyes; lust, yes, but there was definitely love lurking there. This was new. This was unexpected. And this was a bit frightening. The thing is, I've been in love and I've had women be in love with me, and it's all exciting and flattering and strange. What worried me here was the fact that Madelyne had been very happily married before I got my claws into her, and the possibility existed that she was thinking about, well, love. With me. I smiled and triggered her, then told her to sit down. Then I asked her to describe her feelings about her husband and about me. She told me that her husband just wasn't as exciting as he had been when they were first married, and that after being with me, she realized that her husband just didn't get her as hot as I did. When she was with me, she said "it just feels like sparks and fireworks every time." She said she got hot just looking at me, or just thinking about me. "One day in a faculty meeting," she said, "someone mentioned your name, and I suddenly found myself wet and horny." And other stuff. Now, while all of this was flattering as hell, the last thing I wanted or needed was a broken marriage due to the fact that I couldn't keep my dick in my pants and out of hers. Some carefully crafted suggestion was in order. I gazed sadly at the bustier and told her that she should forget she had seen me that day. Then I told her to go to her husband's place of business and ambush him, either grabbing him in his office, taking him in her car, or spiriting him off to a motel for the afternoon. I stressed that the heat she was feeling was for her hubby, and that the sex would be incredible. Then I told her to get dressed and count to fifteen, then awaken and go into action. I ducked out the door, stepped behind a unit of lockers, and waited. Seconds later, she strode out of her office, poked her head in to say something to the school secretary, and was gone. I asked her later, indirectly, what had happened. Apparently, her husband managed a car dealership, and when she came in, he was in a meeting with his salesmen. "I told his secretary that I really needed to see him, and that I'd be waiting in his office. And when he came in, I was standing behind the door. I shut it, he turned around, and his eyes came out of their sockets. I was wearing this bustier and panty set (yeah, I thought. I know...) and he turned wolf quicker than I could say 'Little Red Riding Hood.' He locked the door, and I found myself on my back, on his desk, and on my way to my first orgasm of the day! And all the rest of the afternoon, make love, make love and make love! It was wonderful!" She was very happy to be telling me this. She was also sitting astride me, naked, bouncing cheerfully up and down on my lap. Her breasts were bobbling and she was smiling ecstatically. What? You thought I was going to give her up? Are you crazy? I just didn't want to break up her marriage, and she certainly didn't want that, either, so we remained careful and circumspect. We also still fucked a lot at school. But I digress. We left me standing in a hallway, watching one of the truly great pieces of ass shimmy off to attack her husband. Which is when I noticed Ms. Tennant in the doorway to the faculty lounge, staring at me. This would be an opportune time to describe her. Catherine Tennant was about 5'4", maybe 110 pounds soaking wet, and, well, kind of plain. Which isn't really fair, I suppose. It's not that she was not attractive, or couldn't be with a bit of work. It's just that it didn't seem to have occurred to her that make-up and a wardrobe change could make a lot of difference. She didn't have much in the way of hips, not much booty, smallish boobs. Her blond hair was straight and shag cut, but didn't have a lot of body to it. In short, she looked pretty much like your best friend's sixteen-year-old kid sister. The one that used to follow you around and stuff, that you found out later had a huge crush on you and never said anything. You know, that one. At that point, from what I knew, she was actually almost 25, just a couple of years out of college. And she looked, well, nervous, standing in that doorway. "Hey, Ms. Tennant," I said, voice all cheerful and chirpy. "You look really nice today." I semi-pointedly glanced her up and down. "How are you?" She opened her mouth to reply, seemingly thought better of it, then tried again. "I'm fine, Lee, and thank you." She started to turn away, then stopped. "Well. Seems like you've been pretty busy around here lately." She wouldn't look at me, but she stayed standing there. "Busy. Hmm, well, I suppose you could call it that." I smiled. "Or something else. But yeah, I keep myself occupied." She glanced at me. "Mrs. DeForrest looked really pretty today, wouldn't you say so?" I glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "I mean, you were in her office, weren't you?" I smiled. "Yes, I was. Very pretty woman, very married. Said she had to go see her husband about something." I smiled wider. "She seemed really excited. Must have been personal, you know?" Ms Tennant stepped back, glanced as though she ought to flee, then stopped with an effort. "You must know her pretty well, yes?" I shrugged. "I suppose so. She's my guidance counselor. She keeps wanting me to find something I enjoy and just go for it." "Seems to me that's pretty much what you're doing already." She glanced directly at me, eye to eye, then looked away. All innocence, I shook my head. "Sorry, dunno what you mean." She glared. "Let me jog your memory. What were you doing out in the parking lot this morning? Gymnastics?" I nodded. "Kind of. Mostly, though, we were dry humping." I smiled. "How did it look, anyway? Kind of hot, right?" Her mouth sagged open, then shut itself. Her face turned brick red, and she wheeled around and scurried off to her classroom. I couldn't resist. I followed. She ducked into her room and shut the door behind her. I stepped up to the door and peered through the window carefully. She moved over to her desk and sat for a moment, staring at the wall. Then she took hold of the top of her shirt around the neck and pulled it away from her body, kind of fanning herself. I nearly turned away at that point, getting bored, when she put her hand in her lap and started moving it around. I watched, fascinated, as her efforts began to show results. After a moment or two, she ran her unoccupied hand through her hair and lightly brushed across her tits. She was being circumspect, but to someone who had seen as much sex and stuff as I'd seen the past year, she was being far more obvious than she knew. I gave it a few more moments, then took a deep breath and knocked and opened the door at the same time. I saw her hand fly out from where it had been, and her eyes seemed a bit wild from across the room. It was a bit rude of me to burst in just as she was on the edge of orgasm, but I figured she'd be more interesting to deal with. "Can I help you, Lee," she asked, trying to slow down her breathing. I smiled slowly, looking her up and down. I took particular pleasure from her tightly crinkled nipples, clearly visible through her shirt. "Maybe. Seems like the more pertinent question is whether I can help you. If you're interested." I smiled slowly as I glanced back up and saw the look on her face. Pretty much priceless. She was trying very hard not to reveal anything, but she couldn't stop her hands from fluttering, and her knees looked weak. Her eyes were very wide but sort of unfocused. I took two steps closer, and she involuntarily took one back herself, stumbling against her desk. She sat down abruptly on the desktop, whimpered slightly, and watched me closely. I paused, smiled wider, and took another step towards her. She crossed her arms and mustered up some backbone. "What do you want," she asked flatly, raising her chin slightly. I took one more step towards her, leaving me close enough to touch her face. I reached out my arm gently, smiling with a bit less amusement, and I touched her face. "Same thing you do." She grasped my wrist with her left hand, pulling my hand away from her face. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I think you'd better leave." I looked her directly in the eyes. "If you like. But I have a question. You might want to think about it before I go." She dropped my hand, stood, and walked away slightly. "And that would be?" "Ask yourself this," I replied. "Why is it that you stood and watched me make out with a girl in the parking lot? Why is it that you're concerning yourself with what is happening between me and my guidance counselor? And why were you sitting at your desk with your hand in your lap? Why is that?" I smiled easily. "I liked that a lot, by the way. Flattering, really, if it was because of me." She looked like she had been slapped. "Get out of here! You have to leave, now. Get out!" She was deeply flustered and obviously embarrassed. She somehow couldn't muster up the self-assurance to blankly deny what I had said, so she needed me gone. And I didn't cooperate at all. I walked around the chair she had maneuvered between us and backed her up three feet to a wall. She was scared now, afraid I was going to either hurt her or do something she hadn't counted on. What I did surprised me, too. I put my hands on either side of her against the wall, slowly leaned in close enough to kiss her, and said, almost up against her lips, "Ok. See ya." At that, I backed away somewhat more quickly, turned, walked to the door, looked back, smiled and started out the door. As I turned away, she was still against the wall, wide-eyed and ruffled, but I heard her mutter "you bastard...you goddamn bastard." Oh, fun. I turned back. She was still against the wall, but there was a tinge of something else going on there, and I couldn't quite tell what was up with her. But I knew what was going up with me. I started across the room slowly, and she tensed up like she was thinking of running, but didn't know where to go. The High School Hypnotist Redux I took my time walking across the room, and she looked more and more nervous. When I got to within two feet of her, I could tell that her breathing rate had elevated considerably, and she seemed a bit flushed. I stood there for a moment, looking into her eyes as knowingly as I could muster, then leaned in slowly and smashed my lips against hers. She tried to spin away, but I wouldn't let her, and I kissed her as hard and hot as I could manage. She reached up to try and pull me off, and I caught her arms and held them above the wrists and continued the kiss. She was trying to say something, was loudly "hollering" through her nose, but I didn't let her vocalize and I didn't stop the pressure. And then I felt her kiss back. Hard. I let go of her wrists, and she slithered her arms around my back, jammed her pelvis against my upper thigh, and absolutely went for it. After about five minutes of progressively hotter lip to lip massage, she stepped back, panting, and looked at me. Her eyes were wild, her lips were swollen a bit, and her hair was somewhat tousled. "Oh my God," she said, murmuring, "Where did you learn to do that?" She stepped in again and pushed her tidy little chest against my torso. "That was so hot," she continued, "So damned hot. And you're so fucking young!" I think all I managed to do was look at her hungrily. Who would have figured? This was one case where absolutely no hypnotism figured in at all. Ok, except for the Cindy bit and the bit with my guidance counselor...but nothing directly. I was hotter than pan-fried Hell and harder than non-Euclidean geometry. "So," I managed to choke out, "do you want to stop?" In answer, she pulled me across the room to where a cabinet blocked the window in the door, and she trotted over and locked her classroom. She took a strip of construction paper that was stuck to the inside of the door and pasted it firmly to the window. Then she turned around and started back towards me, with a wry little smile. She stopped about five feet away. "I've been watching you for awhile," she said, then shook her head. "You've been busy." She pulled her shirt over her head and her bra was skimpy and hid nothing. "How about we find out what you've learned in school?" She walked over to me slowly, shedding clothing like a well-trained sexual athlete, and by the time she got to me, she was naked and smoldering. I don't think there was hair one from the scalp downwards. She was smooth, clean-shaven, and as she stood there in front of me, I could tell her pussy lips were swollen and slightly damp. "Leave your clothes on," she said, then she put a chair out in front of her and told me to sit on it. Then she began the naughtiest, filthiest, most sensual lap dance I can possibly imagine. She slithered around me, on me, beside me and between my legs, and wouldn't let me use my hands at all. She would rub her tits over my shoulders and across my face, allowing me to tongue a nipple now and then, and then slide her slit over a forearm or sit on my thigh and lightly rub herself against me. I let her do this for awhile and have her fun, and then at one point where she was straddling me in a cowboy fashion I got my pants opened and my dick out. When she backed up and moved her whup around, I grasped her hips, pulled her down, and sank in to the hilt. She yelped, then growled and started a really slow, nasty rhythm that she simply couldn't sustain. Within a moment or two, she was slapping her thighs against my Levis just as fast as she could get her muscles to work, and when she rose up on one occasion, I slipped out, spun her around, and resettled her aboard, filled to the brim with her boobies in my face. After that, it was all riders and spurs, and banging away with abandon. She scrunched her eyes as closed as she could get them, and was obviously working really hard not to shriek (so as not to upset the neighbors, no doubt.). I grasped her ass in both hands, stood, and began bouncing up and down on my toes, whamming her deeply on every downstroke. I could feel her so tight and on edge she was almost humming with orgasmic energy, and when she finally did blow off, she nearly choked me to death, hugging me so tightly, and almost uprooted my dick with her snatch. Which made me torch, and I felt the area between my eyes begin to melt and roll down my nose in little silver drops. Oh. My. God. When we finally caught our breath, she curled up on my lap, idly stroking my chest with one small hand. Then she sighed and looked at me wickedly. "That was pretty good for a start...wanna see if we can top that?" I smiled. "Can we go somewhere else, though? If I'm going to scream like a little girl, I'd like to be somewhere only you can hear it." I kissed her deeply, and felt her slight, electric body respond like turning on a light switch. 'So, what about it? Your place or mine?" She grinned and slipped out of my lap, taking my dick in her hand. "Why don't we stay here for another..." she grinned wider, if possible, "...five minutes or so." And she lowered her head and began performing a very ancient form of magic. I managed to hold on for almost ten minutes by mentally recomputing Juan Marichal's lifetime ERA, which is, in case you are wondering, a splendid 2.89.