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The Power

Rollie Lawson


The Power

Chapter 1 - The Accident

I wasn’t always like this; I mean able to control minds. I’ve never heard or met anyone who was able to do it. But I can’t be the only person who can or who has been able to. The concept is too widely known. If, as linguists and anthropologists speculate, no culture will have words or expressions for what cannot be conceived of by them, then I can’t be the only person this has happened to. Similarly, clairvoyance, telepathy, and telekinesis must occur to some extent, or how could we conceive of them? Still, such instances must be very rare, or it would be common knowledge

However, this was not meant to be a philosophical dissertation. I just thought I’d let you know that it happened to me.


I was sixteen-years-and-three-months old, give or take a few days, and my buddy Larry had just turned sixteen himself. His parents, possessing more money than sense had presented a new Chevy to him for his birthday, and he, I, and another couple of guys were going out to drive it around. “Death Seat!” I screamed and ran to the front passenger door.

How was I to know how prophetic this would be! Not five minutes later, Larry decided to try his luck on a yellow light and went through late. I looked out my side window in time to see the semi’s grill fill the view, then…


I awoke feeling very groggy and thirsty and didn’t seem able to move very well. I blinked weakly and tried to clear my eyes, but my hands didn’t seem to want to move either. I managed to croak something out and went back to sleep.

The next time I woke I felt much better. I was still thirsty, but didn’t seem as dehydrated as before, and my eyes came fully open. I was staring at a white tile ceiling. This time I could move somewhat, and I managed to move my head around.

Focusing, I could see that I was lying in a bed with rails along the side, like the beds you see in hospital shows on TV. What I could remember came back to me, the truck hitting the side of Larry’s new car and then nothing else. Okay, we had been in an accident and I was in the hospital. I looked down at my body and was tolerably pleased to see that everything was in pretty much the same place as before. My left arm was free, and I could move it, albeit slowly and weakly. My right arm was strapped to the bed, with about a million tubes going in, but I could wriggle my fingers. A light sheet covered my torso and legs, but bumps indicated that all that stuff was still there, too. Strangely, I could wiggle my left toes and leg, but not my right.

“Hello?” It took me several seconds to clear my dry throat and croak this out, but no one responded. Looking around, I noticed a remote-control type button clipped to my bedsheet near my left hand and hit the button.

About a minute later, a nurse opened the door and came in. “Great, you’re awake!” she said.

“Water,” I croaked.

The nurse, a towering battle-ax straight from Central Casting, came to my bedside and promptly poured a glass. Slipping in a flexible straw, she rather tenderly positioned my head so I could sip from it. I drained the glass and two more like it.


“Sure thing, honey. I’ve got to get the doctor.” She smiled down at me. “Don’t go away!”

Hospital humor is generally lost on me, but I smiled and nodded. A few minutes later the door opened again, and a medium-tall middle-aged bald guy walked in. He carried a clipboard and wore a white coat and a stethoscope, so I didn’t think he was the janitor. “I’m Doctor Stevings, Paul. How do you feel?” he said.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I replied, looking down at my body. “How do I feel?”

Just then, the door burst open and a small whirlwind came through. “Paul! Paul! Oh, my God! Paul! Are you alright? Oh, God!” Mom collapsed onto the bed and tried to hug me, lift me, kiss me, and cry all at the same time.

I was shocked by her behavior, but even more when the MD pulled my Mom off me. “Please, Mrs. Jones, you can’t move your son around like that until we’ve checked him over.”


“Please, Mrs. Jones. He’s not going anywhere. Give me five minutes and he’s all yours,” he said with a smile. “Please wait outside.” He gently but firmly pulled my mother upright and directed her towards the door.

She looked over her shoulder and yelled back to me, “I’ll be right outside the door, baby. I’ll be back in a few minutes!” and allowed herself to be led out.

The doctor came over to me. “We really don’t like patients in your condition to be so roughly handled until we know the extent of your injuries. So again, how do you feel?”

I thought for a second. “Okay, I guess. Kind of hungry. What happened to me?”

He ignored the question. Pulling a small steel rod from his pocket, he twisted it and pulled a needle from it. “Tell me if you feel this.”

I half expected him to jab it into me somewhere, but instead he simply traced lines and circles over my hands and feet. I simply kept saying “Yes.” each time he asked.

Presently, he looked up at me with a look of relief. Lifting my free left arm, he asked me to move it through several positions. Unstrapping my right, we repeated the exercise. Finally, he pulled the sheet off my left leg and we moved that around as well. I felt fine, though weak, I told him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he said, and went towards the door.

“Wait! What about my right leg? We didn’t move that! What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He came back to the bed and lifted the sheet, letting me see the cast which extended from ankle to groin. “Not much point in moving this one around, is there?” he asked jokingly.

“So, what happened to me?” I asked.

“Let’s get your mother back in and we can both tell you.” He rearranged the sheet and went to the door. As soon as it opened my mother busted in and ran to my bedside. This time she looked tearfully at the doctor first, who simply nodded, and she burst out in fresh tears as she hugged and kissed me.

Finally, she calmed down enough to answer my repeated question, “What’s happened to me?”

“You were in an accident.”

“I know that, Mom. I was there, remember? And where’s Sue? Why isn’t she here?” Sue is my sister, who is almost fifteen. She’s a real pain in the ass most of the time, but we’re fairly close.

Mom gave me a funny look. “Paul, she’s in school.”

“School? Mom, we just got out of school. What, did she have to go to summer school?” This didn’t sound right; I would have known if she was.

Another funny yet horrified look. “Paul, it’s the second week of September.” She looked over at the doctor in confusion. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?” I demanded, staring at the doctor.

“Didn’t have the chance,” he said to Mom. Looking at me, he said, “You’ve been in a coma for three months, Paul.”


I felt like I had been hit by a second truck. Both my mother and the doctor started talking at the same time, with Stevings spouting off Latin terms for good measure. Eventually I got it sorted out. Apparently, the semi had really slammed into the front passenger door. Despite the seat belt and airbag, I had bounced all over the front seat. My right knee had been crushed to the point where there had been worry that I would lose the leg, but worst was a major-league concussion which had put me in the coma. Topping the picture off, my heart had stopped in the ambulance and they were worried about spinal damage as well. Oh, yeah, and I had busted three ribs and two fingers, but since they had healed while I was out, I never felt the difference.

No wonder I felt weak and hungry; I had been fed by tubes for the entire summer. However, now that I was awake again, the prognosis was much brighter. While much more testing was in order, it appeared that I wasn’t going to be paralyzed, and would sooner or later be kicked out to go home.

When I asked about my right leg, Stevings simply scratched his head and shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m a neurologist, not an orthopedics man. I can tell you a few things. While you were in the coma, we did three operations on your knee. Had to be done then, we couldn’t wait for you to come around. As far as I know, all the pieces are back in place. But, and this is a big but, because it’s not my specialty, nobody can really know until the cast comes off and you try to use it. I can guarantee you are in for some fairly serious physical therapy. How long and what percentage you get back, I don’t know.”

Now it was my turn to shrug. “I guess I should be thankful I’m still alive. Hey, whatever happened to Larry and Jake and Billy?”

“Who?” he asked.

“The other boys in the car,” said Mom. “They just had a few cuts and bruises. God only knows why, but they walked away from it.”

“Shit!” I exclaimed. “I’m going to get better just to beat the hell out of them, the bastards!” I laughed.

“Watch your mouth, Paul.”

“Yes, Mom,” I said contritely.


Mom and Sue came back later that night during visiting hours. In the meantime, the battle-ax had returned and given me a sponge bath (which I really needed) and changed my catheter, which I didn’t even know I had. Don’t ask about the other side - you don’t want to know! Finally, she helped me eat a delicious meal of Jell-O and broth. When I complained that I wanted real food, she told me to pipe down, I’d puke it up in five minutes, and to eat what I was told. I was surprised how full the Oliver Twist gruel made me, and she said that my stomach had shrunk during the coma, and I would have to work back up to solid foods. Then she removed most of the IV tubes in my right arm, the ones which had been feeding me.

I was clean and presentable by the time Mom and Sue came in, and I just couldn’t get over the changes in their appearance. In Mom’s case, it turned out that I had come out of the coma yesterday, and Mom had stayed all day and night at the hospital for me to wake up again. When I saw her earlier, she looked like she had been dragged through a knothole. As for Sue, she was a teenager who had seemingly aged three months overnight. She was now fifteen and maturing rapidly.

One interesting thing though, I now had a beard and mustache. Just before my accident, I had started to shave, at least every four or five days or so. I guess it was simply that time in my adolescence. Now I had a respectable mustache and a considerably less respectable beard. As soon as I got the chance I lost the beard, but I kind of liked the mustache and let that stay. It’s funny, but I’ve never seen my upper lip since.

The orthopedic surgeon came in while Mom and Sue were there and explained that the cast was coming off in six days. Then we could all find out just how bad things were. He also went into some detail on the physical therapy I would need. He was a younger doctor, maybe mid-thirties, without a wedding band, and I noticed he kept an eye on Mom the entire time. This didn’t surprise me at all; Mom is pretty noticeable.

I should explain one thing first. Sue and I don’t have a father. Mom married right out of high school in a burst of love and stupidity. He stuck around after I was born, just long enough to knock Mom up a second time, then took off for parts unknown when he discovered that lightning can strike twice. I don’t remember him at all, and Sue was born after he left. Mom took back her maiden name (Sue’s and my last name is Harron), moved back to her hometown and raised us by herself, with the help of her parents. Still, she never complained - Mom is a firm believer in making lemonade if someone gives you lemons.

Looking back on it now, I have no idea how she managed to raise two kids without a pot to piss in and do as well as she did. Oh, Granny and Gramps helped, certainly, but Mom managed to go to the local community college and learn enough to become a secretary. Then, while working full time and raising us, she managed to go back to school and get a four-year degree. Now she was office manager for the regional headquarters of the local department store. Even though her parents weren’t much better off, she saved enough so that when they died and left her a small insurance settlement, she could buy a small house in an older development. I was, and still am, pretty proud of her. She raised Sue and me with that same no-tears, no-failure attitude. I made Eagle Scout on my sixteenth birthday, and Sue has never had less than an A- in school. Mom would kill us if we were to screw up.

But that doesn’t explain why the surgeon kept ogling her all night. To put it simply, my Mom is a stone fox!

First, she’s only thirty-five. Most of my friends’ parents are ten years older, but you do the arithmetic. She was nineteen when I came along and I’m sixteen. Secondly, she’s tiny. She’s only five-foot-one and can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. And lastly, she has a killer figure - 36D-22-33 - topped by a wavy mop of curly auburn hair.

I’ve always thought my Mom was pretty, but I suppose most sons think their mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. But once I hit puberty, I started to notice that most of my buddies and their fathers also liked to watch her. And Mom likes to be noticed!

Mom’s standard mode of dress is not the suburban jogging suit. Far from it! Mom likes to wear short skirts and tight blouses, and I don’t think she even owns a pair of shoes without at least three-inch heels. Mind you, she doesn’t dress like a slut or anything like that. She just always dresses real pretty. She knows she looks good and dresses to accentuate, not hide it.

Once I became old enough to really notice and understand such things, about when I was thirteen or fourteen, I realized that Mom liked guys to notice her, because she liked guys. A lot! She likes to date and has for as long as I can remember, even before I understood it as dating. Then, one Friday night I discovered that she had had sex more than the two times it took to conceive my sister and me. When she went out, to “dinner” as I recall, I noticed that her left stocking had a run up the back. She was out the door before I could tell her, but later that night, when she came home, the run was on the back of the right leg! It didn’t take me long to figure out that she must have taken her stockings off and then put them back on, which implied she had taken her clothes off, which implied she had been undressed with a man, which implied, well you get my drift.

The next weekend, when she went out to “dinner”, I snooped around in her room after Sue went to bed. Boy, did I get an eyeful! First, I discovered she didn’t wear pantyhose, only stockings. In her nightstand, I discovered a small oval case with little pills. When I checked the name in the school library’s medical books I discovered they were birth control pills! I also found a pair of dildos, one of which vibrated, although I had no clue what they were, even though one was shaped just like a big dick. There were also a couple of dirty magazines, some “bodice-ripper” type books, and a few catalogs, which explained to me the purposes of some of her lingerie. I figured out her measurements by snooping in her closet and reading labels. It was really obvious that Mom had some real sexy clothes, and the birth control pills certainly seemed to say that Mom had a reason to be taking them!

Like I said, my Mom is a sexpot. She knows it and she doesn’t mind men knowing it.

Don’t get the wrong impression. My mother is not a slut. She didn’t bring men home and fuck them in the house. She didn’t have a different guy every night, in fact she seemed to prefer relatively long-term relationships. She wasn’t sleeping around every night and coming in at the crack of dawn. She came home at quite reasonable hours, didn’t reek of cheap booze from bars, and most nights was home with Sue and me, checking homework religiously. When she went to work, she dressed pretty but professional, not sleazy. Still, most weekends she went out at least one night and got well laid.

Mom didn’t really discuss this with us. Oh, she did joke to Sue once or twice that men were like busses, “One comes along every five minutes,” but other than those few times she kept it low-key. However, the fact of the matter is that Mom likes the guys and the guys like Mom. When she did break up with a fellow, she didn’t stay celibate long. And she seemed to feel that one marriage was more than sufficient.

I don’t think Sue ever noticed. As for me, well, I loved her and was smart enough to tell that she was doing a great job of raising us. If she wanted to have some fun, it was not for me to complain. She had had a tough time, which I could remember if Sue couldn’t.

That describes Mom. As for Sue, just imagine a younger version of Mom. Same height, same build, same pretty face, same reddish-brown hair, same hazel eyes. At fifteen she was already a head-turner and a heartbreaker.

I’m told that I take after my father, who I don’t remember. If so, I suppose the bastard was adequate enough to look at. I’m six-foot-even and weigh 180, and, at least before the accident, was in decent enough shape, although I came out of the coma barely 150 and as weak as a kitten. It’s almost comical to stand with my Mom and Sue, since I tower over them. As for my looks, it’s hard for me to say, since my tastes don’t run to guys. I’ve never had problems finding girlfriends, and dogs don’t go howling down the streets at my appearance. Let’s just leave it at that.


The next few days were fairly boring. Sue came by after school and Mom came in after dinner. Larry stopped by and we joked for a while. He was incredibly apologetic, but it seemed to me like it was only a few days ago, and he couldn’t really understand the concept of what had happened to me. I still have a problem with that. A reporter stopped by for a “human interest” story, which was kind of neat. Even neater was the next day, when a TV crew came by from a local station. Larry brought over Jake and Billy and we mugged it up for the camera. Jake’s folks had taken a roll of film of the smashed car and I made the appropriate “Ooohs” and “Aahhs”. I should have been hosed out of that thing. Larry sheepishly admitted that the cops had yanked his license.

“Shit, Larry, what do you care? Your old man grounded you for life, anyway!” laughed Billy.

“Shit, longer if he can get away with it,” he admitted.

I first noticed I had The Power a few days later, the day before they were to remove the cast. By then all the IVs had been pulled, leaving only the catheter still stuck into me, and I had been wheeled into another room, one with another patient waiting for a gall bladder operation. From the moment the door opened, and I was wheeled in, his mouth was in motion, and it never stopped.

“Hello there, young fellow, I’m Bob Sammiel, what’s your name?”

“Paul Harron, how do you do….”

“Fine, just fine. Whatcha in for, broken leg? Never had one of them. Broke my arm once. Had a cast the size of Mount Rushmore on it. Let me tell you…” He just ran right on, never letting me get a word in edgewise. I didn’t need to - he talked enough for an entire hospital.

Nothing could stop this guy. He had the remote for the TV set and flipped it to some damn soap opera. When he wasn’t talking to me about this idiot show, he was talking back to the TV itself! “What she sees in him, I’ll never understand…” When a news bulletin came on he started commenting on the news, “In my day a fellow like that…” After the news, he flipped to a game show and started giving answers!

You couldn’t shut this guy up! When I told him at one point in the afternoon that I was tired and was going to take a nap, he just said “Okay” and kept right on going! I pulled the pillow over my head to drown him out and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up, it was to the sound of Bob talking to himself.

{Jesus! Just shut up, will you, mister!} I thought to myself - and he did! Just like that. I didn’t think twice about it, but simply counted my blessings. Maybe he had finally run out of steam.

Surprisingly, he didn’t say a word when the orderly brought dinner. Later that night, a nurse came by and took our temperatures and gave him a pill to swallow. When she asked him how he felt, he kept quiet.

“Mister Sammiel, I asked how you felt? Mister Sammiel? Are you alright? Sir?”

She was starting to get worried, and I was thinking, {Well, answer her, you fucking idiot!} and he did. He was off and running again, with a full head of steam and an empty track in front of him. Looking back on it, I suspect that was the longest he had been silent since some dumb bastard had taught him to talk, but at the time, I just figured he had his second wind. He kept it up the rest of the night, and I woke to those nasal tones the next morning.

I wanted to tell this guy to just SHUT THE FUCK UP, but I was taught to be polite to my elders. But when the nurse came in to prep for my grand opening, and this clown was still yammering, I just had to think to myself, {Can’t you people get this idiot out of here?}

She simply glanced over at him in the middle of his latest diatribe on Regis and Kathy Lee and left. A few minutes later she returned with a pair of orderlies. As they started to move his bed, she said, “Mr. Sammiel, we’re going to be moving you down the hall to another room, closer to the OR.”

Thank God! I kept my thoughts to myself (not even knowing what that would come to mean to me) and gave her a big smile. She smiled back and the orthopedic surgeon came in a few minutes later and removed the cast. Mom was there, watching, as he had me try to move my leg. I could move it, just barely, but with hardly any front-to-back motion. The doctor frowned and reached down to try to help me move it, and I yelped as he bent it back at the knee. He kept frowning. Mom wanted to know what was wrong.

“Well, Mrs. Jones, Paul doesn’t have as much movement to his leg as we would like to see. I’m not quite sure whether the problem is the damage from the accident, nerve problems, muscle problems, or post-surgery trauma. I am going to order up a full string of tests to see what we can determine.”

So began the wildest string of medical tests it has ever been my misfortune to endure! There were enough X-rays to irradiate lead, and MRI scans from head to toe. Those damn machines are noisy as hell and could give claustrophobia to a submariner! Of course, my favorite was the neurological tests. Stevings had learned his craft at the Marquis de Sade College of Medicine. The basic premise is that they stick needles in you, then plug them into the wall socket and measure how high you jump! If they don’t think you’ve jumped high enough, they up the voltage until you jump higher. Great fun; I can’t wait till Disney finds out and puts it in their ‘Pirates of the Harvard Medical School’ ride!

The only benefit to this that I could see was that the cast was off, and I could go to the bathroom again, or so I thought. Now that I was conscious I could lose the giant diaper, and I had lost the catheter, and now had to use a bedpan. Very embarrassing. That night, when I needed to go, I buzzed the nurse and asked her to help me get to the bathroom.

“Forget it!” she said. Nurse Cratchett pulled out a bedpan. “You’re not getting up.”

“Ma’am, I have been using that thing for a week now. It doesn’t get better. I don’t have a cast. I can go to the bathroom over there,” I said, pointing to the small stall near the door.

“No. You can’t even walk. You’ll break your fool neck and I am not hauling your butt back into bed. Now, get over it and let’s get down to business.”

This was beyond embarrassing, it was mortifying. I don’t think I could have gone at all now that she was in my face. Feeling lower than I had ever felt in my life, I began to beg. Looking her straight in the eye, I just said, “Please, I’m begging you, I won’t fall down, if I can’t, I’ll get right back here.” {Please!}

A strange look came into her face, and she set the pan on the stand next to the bed. “Oh, all right,” she said gruffly. “I must be as big an idiot as you to do this.” She dropped the side rail on the bed. Reaching out, she took my hands and helped me to a sitting position. I nearly passed out.

“This is insane,” she muttered. Between the two of us, I twisted around on the bed, so my feet were dangling over the edge, with my right leg sort of sticking out. Positioning herself on my right side, she said, “Well, come on, put your arm over my shoulder. You’re too big for me to carry. Otherwise, I am going to drag you by one leg, the bad one.” It was a damned good thing I had lost the weight, because I was almost too weak to make it on my own, and she half-carried me to the door. I was white-faced and sweating by the time I made that last painful drop into position.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t thank me. You fall off that thing and I’m going to let you die in there!”

As it was, once business was through, I couldn’t stand to open the door. However, hospital bathrooms don’t have locks, so she could help me up and back to bed.

“You are sweating like a pig, boy! Now get in bed and I’ll give you a sponge bath. You argue and I’ll use a Brillo pad.”

I didn’t argue. I was too tired.

So far, however, while I had used The Power four times, I didn’t even know I was using it! I mean, maybe it was just luck, or being persuasive, or something. But I knew for sure two days later. By then, I had gained enough strength and coordination to use a walker for traveling at least a few feet and could get out of bed myself. I had even managed to talk the nurse into letting me use a special shower for people in walkers! By now I had my own bathrobe and pajamas from home and no longer could feel my ass hanging in the breeze. That night, two days later, a new nurse came in to check me before I went to sleep (and to probably wake me up to give a sleeping pill, too), and this lady had the biggest tits I have ever seen! She was a tall blonde in her early thirties, and I couldn’t believe she didn’t topple forward. As she was leaving she asked if I needed anything.

{Yeah, show me your tits!} I thought.

And damned if she didn’t! Or almost anyway. She walked over to the side of the bed, with her back to the door, and reached up to the zipper on her tunic and started to pull it down. She had it below the level of her overfilled brassiere when the door opened, and another nurse came in.

{Oh, SHIT!}

Ellen Radley, RN (that’s what it said on her name tag) simply zipped back up like nothing had happened and left with her friend. But before she got away, I thought, {Tomorrow night!} She simply looked at me as she walked out the door and smiled.

Well, HOLY SHIT! Wow and double wow. She was actually going to show me her tits, and all I had done was wish for her to do it! Remember, at the time, I was sixteen and had never actually seen real live tits. Well, there was that date with Mary Smithy just before the accident, when we went parking and got into the back seat. I actually had my hand inside her blouse and bra, and she had given me a hand job, but that was the sum total of my sexual experience at the time. I had never seen real live tits with the lights on, and I knew, I just knew, that I would have been able to touch them. HOLY SHIT!

All the next day I experimented, making doctors and nurses do stuff. Oh, nothing weird, just things like, {Scratch your left arm} or {Turn around.} And they would, too, scratch or turn. One dopey looking orderly I made jump up and down on one foot. Nobody seemed to think what they were doing was at all unusual. It was just so cool! I even made my Mom and sister do things.

But most important, I waited around for Ellen Radley, RN, to show up. I had an iron-hard hard-on all day. Then, shortly after dinner, the door to my room opened, and she came in. She came over to the bed, dressed in a white nurse’s tunic, white pants, and those ugly white nurse shoes, and simply unzipped the tunic to the bottom. Underneath she had on a very large and lacy front-clasp bra (I had seen pictures in one of Mom’s catalogs, so I knew what kind it was). Reaching between her breasts, she undid the clasp and her tits spilled free. I simply stared.

Now that I look back, I suppose that her breasts weren’t all that great, just really big. They sagged pretty bad and I could see veins and stretch marks all over them. Since then I’ve had lots of women with even bigger breasts, young and firm, that stand up on their own, but at the time they seemed miraculous. My dick was making a tent out of the bedsheet as I asked, “Can I touch them?”

“Sure, Paul,” was all she said.

I twisted around in bed and reached out with both hands, grabbing and squeezing both. I was in heaven.

“Ow! Take it easy, Paul. That hurts!” Ellen complained.

I dropped them like hot potatoes and pulled back my hands. “Sorry. Uh, how should I touch them?” I asked.

“Gently, like you’d want me to touch your cock.” I couldn’t believe my ears! She’d said ‘cock!’ Taking my hands in hers, she drew them to her chest and placed them on her breasts. “Now, slowly and gently, rub them all over, especially around the nipples. Like this.” Ellen began to move my hands and fingers around her breasts. I could feel her nipples hardening to my touch, and a red flush was beginning to come over her neck and chest. “Ummm, that’s nice, Paul,” she murmured as her eyes began drooping. I kept up my kneading of her breasts and nipples as she responded to my touch. Several minutes later, I was surprised when, with her eyes closed, she said, “Pinch my nipples, now, please, pinch them.” I did as she asked and she gave a low, guttural moan and shook all over. I didn’t know it then, but she had just had an orgasm!

When it was over, she stepped back slightly, and my hands fell away. Ellen opened her eyes and looked down at me. “Thank you, Paul,” she said, and moved to get her clothes back on.

“Wait!” I squeaked out and thought. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Uh…”, was all I said, but I was thinking, {Hand job.}

“Okay, Paul, sure,” said Ellen. She reached under the sheets and put her hand on my erect dick, which had worked its way out of the front of my PJs. At the first touch of her flesh to mine, I gave a groan and came. I had gotten so worked up getting her off that I simply exploded all over her hand. My face flushed in embarrassment and I stammered out an apology. I could feel my stick still pulsing, although it was simply dry spurting now, and my pajama bottoms were quite sticky.

“Don’t worry Paul, it’s all right. Here, I’ll bet I can get you off again. Watch.” So, saying, Ellen Radley, RN, pulled the sheet down to my knees, so I could watch as she manipulated me to hardness a second time. It was fascinating - I didn’t know whether to watch those tremendous tits swaying from side to side or to watch my soft dick rolling between her fingers. Within five minutes, my cock was stiff again, and she had switched to jacking me off, with my cum lubricating her hand. This was better than any time I had jacked off, for sure, and even better than having Mary Smithy jerk me off in the back of her Daddy’s Buick. After another five minutes or so, I could feel myself getting close, then I gave another groan as I watched my cum spurt into the air and onto Ellen’s left tit. WOW!

That was it for the night. She went to the bathroom and cleaned up, returning fully dressed with a washcloth. My crotch got a sponge bath and she left, saying she would be back tomorrow night. I slept great!


The next day was my last full day in the hospital, I was to be released the following morning. We had a giant pow-wow with Mom, the neurologist, the orthopedic surgeon, and even Sue sat in, though she had to keep quiet. The final diagnosis was in and it was sort of middling good.

The good news - aside from my right leg, I was basically back to normal. Physical therapy and exercise, and a decent diet, would get me back into good shape shortly, probably within a month or two.

The bad news - my right leg was probably never going to be fully normal again. I only had about 30% range of motion and some severe muscle, cartilage, and ligament damage to my knee. Even after physical therapy and exercise, I was going to be graduating from walker to crutches to cane and stop there. I probably wouldn’t have any serious pain or discomfort, unless I forced it, but I was almost certainly going to limp the rest of my life.

I was rather shocked, but Mom almost broke down. She started crying and hugging me, and it took us a good fifteen minutes to calm her down. “Listen, Mom,” I told her, “don’t listen to these guys. I’m going to get better and get back to normal.” I was talking into my mother’s ear as she sobbed on my shoulder. I saw Williams, the orthopedics guy start to say something, but I gave him a hard look and thought, {Shut up! I’ll handle this,} I continued on, “I’m going to work out and go to therapy and eat my Wheaties and get better. You just watch, I’ll race you around the block in no time.” This might actually be possible, even with a cane, since I figured I could hide her one pair of sneakers and she’d never be able to run in three-inch heels!

Mom stopped crying and looked up, light returning to her reddened eyes. “Okay, darling, whatever it takes.” She smiled and said, “I’ll hold you to that race.”

The doctors explained what would be involved in the therapy - practice walking, exercising my leg, some weight training, and a lot of swimming, which was supposedly great all-over exercise. It would probably be painful, but I had to continue. I promised I would, since I had no intention of using crutches the rest of my life. I had broken my left ankle a couple of years ago and had found them a monumental pain in the ass.

Things got better, though. That night Ellen came back to my room a few hours after dinner. She immediately unzipped her tunic and undid her bra but balked when I asked her to get undressed all the way. “Crandall, the night shift supervisor, will wonder where I am and come looking. She’ll catch us for sure, and I’ll be fired.” She seemed fairly nervous as she unzipped her pants.

Before she could pull them down, I stopped her. “Get dressed and go find her, then bring her here. I’ll explain it all to her.” Ellen gave me a real weird look and seemed about to argue, but I simply thought, {Don’t argue. Do it,} and she did. About fifteen minutes later, the door opened, and Ellen nervously brought Nurse Crandall in.

The door had barely closed when I looked at the head nurse and sent thoughts. {Forget you came in here. You are not worried where Ellen is. You won’t come looking for her until she returns. Go back to work.} Crandall immediately turned and left.

Ellen looked at me in amazement, so I thought to her, {You will forget about her until you leave here. Do not worry about anybody coming in.} I knew that if anybody else came in, I could think at them and make them forget as well, so I wasn’t worried at all.

Ellen promptly returned to my bedside, unzipping her tunic as she came. She placed this on a chair and followed it with the bra. Her sagging tits swayed as she kicked off her shoes and unzipped her pants. She slid them off, along with her plain cotton panties, then sat on the bed next to me as she took off her white socks. Naked, she turned to face my, one leg sliding up onto the bed while the other dangled over the edge. I tilted the bed upright so I could get a good view of her.

It wasn’t until many years later that I realized that other than her tits, which were huge but floppy, Ellen was only an average looking woman. Her muscle tone wasn’t all that great, she had stretch marks on her belly and thighs, a bit of a pot belly, and a big ass. I was so naive that I didn’t even know that pussy hair generally is the same color as the hair on a woman’s head, even if it is often a different shade. Now I know she was a bottle blonde.

At the time, I thought she was the most beautiful creature put on God’s green Earth, if simply for the fact that she was sitting on my bed, naked. She immediately twisted slightly and pulled the covers down. Tonight, my dick was still inside my pajamas, which she unbuttoned and pulled down. My erection bounced up to point at the ceiling, and she promptly grasped it and started to fist me off. I guess I had learned some control the other night, since I didn’t pop my rocks at the mere touch of her, but boy, did it feel good. I stared in fascination as her hand firmly but gently stroked up and down in a twisting motion for about ten minutes, my dick feeling better and better all the time, until I gave a quiet moan and slumped back in the bed, spurting my cum into the air.

What happened next surprised me. Ellen was sitting on my left side, and after I came I stretched my arms a bit. Just loosening up, I guess, when my left hand touched her right thigh. She smiled at me and shifted forwards on the bed. She spread her thighs wider and took my left hand in hers, pulling it down to her upper thigh. Shifting closer to me, she said, “Go ahead, touch my pussy, it’s okay.” Gingerly, I slid my hand up that smooth and creamy thigh until my fingertips barely touched her pubic hair and stopped, looking at her nervously. I had no clue what to do. I had never gotten this far with Mary Smithy, although I knew I was supposed to rub her cunt somehow.

Ellen said, “It’s all right, I want you to. Here, watch.” She reached between her legs with both hands, and I was fascinated to see her pull her pussy open and see the pink inside. Over the next five minutes, I received an amazing lecture in anatomy unlike any I had ever had in Health class. If all classes were like this, there’d be a hell of a lot less confusion in the world. “Now, rub my clitoris with your finger.” I extended my index finger and began to gently rub up and down on it, trying not to be as crude as last night with her tits.

Apparently, my technique was more than adequate because Ellen responded almost immediately. Tonight, she began to moan and squirm as soon as I started rubbing her clit, and her nipples hardened without my even touching. Encouraged, I began to rub it a bit faster and firmer, and she really began to move. Cupping her stupendous knockers, she began to rub and pinch her own nipples, while moaning lowly, “Yes…yes…yes…” It was only a few minutes later that she let go of her right breast and grabbed my left hand, forcing it into her snatch as she cried out, “Oh, God, I’m coming, I’m coming!” shaking and shuddering all over.

I must admit, I was vastly impressed by this display, so much so that I didn’t even notice that my left hand was wet, covered with juices that had leaked from her pussy and smelled faintly pleasant. By now, I was fully erect again and Ellen began to give me another hand job. I stopped her. “Uh, Ellen, could you, uh…”

“What, Paul?” she asked, still gently stroking me.

“Uh, could you give me, uh, you know, uh, a blow job?”

“Sure thing, Paul, I’d love to,” she said. First however, she gave me another lecture, but it really wasn’t necessary. I mean, the sex-ed books were a lot more understandable when you had your own plumbing right at hand, so to speak. “Have you ever had a blow job before, Paul?” she asked.

“Er, no,” I admitted.

“Well, that’s all right. I’m sure you’ll like it. But you’re so big, I’m not sure that I can deep throat you.”

Now I was confused. “What do you mean? I’m too big?” What, was my cock too big to have sex with? The universe’s ultimate joke, the ability to get any woman I wanted and the inability to do anything with her!

She saw my fear and smiled. “No, Paul, you’re just fine. You have a very nice cock. It’s just that the average erection is about six inches long. You look closer to eight, maybe more.”

“Does that mean I won’t be able to, uh, you know, screw?” I blurted out.

She gave my dick a little jig. “No, honey, you’ll do fine. What I mean is about the blow job. You’re so big I probably won’t be able to suck the whole thing into my mouth. Don’t worry, I promise you’ll enjoy this. Now just lay back and watch.” So saying, she bent down and opened her mouth wide. At first she only took the head in, but after a few up and down strokes had about half my dick in her mouth.

If I had thought hand jobs were great, I was now in an entirely new level of bliss. Waves of pleasure literally ran down my cockshaft every time she lowered her head and took me in. On the outstroke, she would suction me, and I could feel my dickhead throb. Meanwhile, her tongue was swirling around the head, while her hands jacked me off and gently cupped my balls. Oh, my God! I had died and gone to heaven! Despite my previous orgasm, I came in less time than before, and stared between my legs as cum seeped around her lips and down my dick. Ellen didn’t stop sucking my cum until I was completely dry, and then she licked off my cock and her hands.

Now, if I had been really smart, I would have had her climb on top and teach me how to fuck. But that blowjob just blew my mind. I fingerfucked her a second time and got another blowjob before sending her back to work. By the time she had cleaned up and dressed in the small bathroom, I was snoozing.


I was wheeled out of the hospital about 10:00 the next morning, and most of the floor staff and both my doctors applauded as I came out. Williams had told me the night before that I would have been leaving anyway today. Once the cast was off, if I hadn’t come out of the coma, I was to be moved to an extended care facility, sort of like an old folk’s home for the brain dead. Sounded real appealing.

Mom pulled up in her car and looked real fine in a short denim skirt, heels, and a short-sleeved blouse. I got to my feet by pulling myself up on the crutches and hobbled to the door she held open. I had been able to get enough exercise, simply walking back and forth down the hospital hallways, to have graduated from the walker. I collapsed into the seat and handed the crutches to Mom, who put them in the back seat, then came around and got in. We both waved to everybody and promised to come back and show them how I was doing.

We were at a stop light when I glanced over at my mother and noticed her skirt had risen up her legs slightly. Man, those legs looked good! I used The Power to send a subtle hint to let her skirt rise higher, much higher. Within moments, her right hand came down and tugged the hemline north. It was funny, since she acted like she didn’t even know what she was doing, but simply kept her eyes on the road and maneuvered the car. I could see the tops of her stockings quite clearly, as well as the creamy flesh of her thighs above them. This was the life, I thought, being chauffeured around by a babe in a mini skirt! I’d have to try this again.

My reverie was broken as we pulled into the driveway. Mom got out, her skirt falling back into place on its own, and she helped me out of the car. It took almost ten minutes for me to hobble inside and up the stairs to my bedroom, and when I was finished I was exhausted.

It was somewhat surreal to re-enter my house; it was almost like it was someone else’s. Everything was there, but not quite in its proper place. I took me a bit to realize that my few days away was actually almost four months. Stuff happens. The cookie jar gets moved. The shower curtain gets replaced. A lamp shade has faded. All the little stuff that you never notice swamped me all at once.

I collapsed on the bed and Mom told me later that she thought I had passed out until I started snoring. I woke in time for dinner, which she brought to me on a tray. She sat down in a chair and crossed her legs, which was a real treat. “Here’s the plan. Starting tomorrow, you start physical therapy. You’ll be going every afternoon from just after lunch till I can pick you up after work. I’ve worked this all out with the therapists and the school.”

Shit! School! I had already missed almost all of September. Now I was going to have to hobble around on crutches and go to classes? This really sucked the big one!

Mom ignored my look of horror and continued. “As soon as you can, you’ll be going back to school, at least for the mornings. The bus is going to stop here, just for you. At lunch, one of those handicapped minibuses will take you from school to therapy, and I’ll pick you up after therapy. See, I’ve got it all worked out!” She was insufferably pleased with herself.

Shit! I was so taken aback by this plan that I completely forgot my initial ideas. After seeing those great legs cross, I had planned to have her uncross them and spread them, and maybe even pop a few buttons on her blouse. I was still in shock when she stood and crossed the room, to kiss my cheek and leave.

I must admit, my thoughts were very confused that night, and well into the morning. Therapy sounded like it was going to be a real pain, yet I knew I had to go through with it if I was ever going to walk even close to normal. I had to go back to school, too, but my semester grades, and maybe even my yearly grades, were going to take a real hit because of my absences. That brought up the subject of college. I was a junior now, and most colleges accepted students based on their junior year grades. What would that mean to me?

And that brought up the $64,000 question. Was I going to college? Did I even need to? With my new powers, I could simply set myself up however I wanted - money would be no problem. I could simply think people into giving it to me. But was that what I wanted? Or should I use my new ability to be a do-gooder, making people do what I thought would be best for them? And who was to say that I knew what that would be? I fell asleep very late and didn’t wake until Mom got me up for the therapy session.

Mind you, I still don’t have the answers to these questions.

Chapter 2 - My First Girlfriend

Mom had taken a couple of days off work to get me situated and started in therapy. It didn’t hit me until later just how much trouble I had caused her by getting hurt, even if it hadn’t been my fault. She had lost a lot of days at work, including all of her vacation for the year, and even if her boss had been good about it, the extra days were days she wasn’t getting paid. Later, after I was back on crutches, she took me to her office to show everybody Lazarus back from the dead, and I thought about using The Power to do something nasty to him but couldn’t. He was really just a nice fellow, stymied by policies he hadn’t written, and trying to run a business. I thanked him for helping Mom out.

Beyond that, this was fairly expensive. While insurance covered most things, there were unbelievable delays at times, and some stuff simply wasn’t covered. We had moved up in the world quite a way from when I was a little kid, but the fact of the matter was that we were simply a working-class family without much in the way of savings. This didn’t help.

Therapy proved as bad as I had feared, at least for my right leg. Imagine being stretched on a rack, broken up by intervals of torture, and you have the best view of things. To be honest, though, the rest wasn’t too bad. Lots of weight training, especially upper-body work, which I enjoyed, and swimming, which to an Eagle Scout with the Lifesaving merit badge, was a piece of cake. Still, it was very tiring, and I spent a lot of time in the sack afterwards.

I had been released on a Tuesday and started therapy the next day. By Friday I was strong and steady enough to start school the following week. I had decided to see how things went, finish my therapy and go back to high school at least, then see what I wanted to do. No reason to be ignorant, and frankly, the thought of staying ignorant soured my stomach. It would be the ultimate weakness. Besides, I had looked forward to eventually graduating from college and making something of myself, maybe even going into the Army. The accident had wiped that idea out, but there was still no reason I couldn’t be a better man than my father, and I had vowed ages ago not to become like him.

That first week of school was kind of odd, though. Fumbling with my crutches, I was almost always late to classes, but none of the teachers said anything, and it was hard enough work that I usually slept in the minibus on the way to therapy. On the plus side, I was pretty much permanently out of gym class, and since that had been scheduled for the morning, I could jigger my schedule to swap in World History, which had been an afternoon class. This proved to be a pretty interesting course, and I had done very well in American History last year. The way the map changed, as ideas and technologies and peoples moved around was fascinating. I decided to take more courses when I could. Another plus was that Chemistry was still in the afternoon, so I missed it, and I didn’t want to take it anyway.

One other thing that had changed was girls. The girls I had known the previous year all seemed just a little bit taller, a little bit bustier, and more mature. I had first noticed it in Sue, who was now a freshman, but I even noticed it in my classmates. I began to consider what to do about my unattached status.

Mary Smithy, the provider of my only pre-Power sexual experience, was out. She had pretty much dumped me after the accident and was going with a jock a year older than us who had promptly popped her cherry, which was quite a bit further than I had gotten. She was apologetic about dumping me while I was in the hospital, but I waved it off. Even at the time, I had realized that she wasn’t going to be a long-term relationship, and now I could have any woman I wanted. Not that I necessarily wanted to just go around and make women fuck me. That seemed rather sterile.

No, as soon as I was on my feet again, I wanted to find something a little more permanent. Someone I could care for and who would care for me.


Two weeks later, I was off the regular crutches and using some aluminum crutches, the kind that wrap around your arms. It looked like I would be off them in a few weeks and using canes, and my therapist was pleased with my response to therapy. Therapy sessions were now every other day, and I was thinking that my self-imposed celibacy should come to an end.

I knew who I wanted to end it with as well, Jenny Blackhawk. She had just transferred in this year and was absolutely gorgeous. The talk around school was that she was a full-blooded Sioux and she looked it. Tall for a girl, she was a just few inches shorter than me, slim yet curvy, long, long black hair which she wore in a ponytail, and she didn’t look red so much as well-tanned. The talk around school was also that she put out, and that she had just broken up with somebody and was back on the market.

I figured to put my plan in action at lunch, and it proved to be simplicity itself. I simply waited for her to grab lunch in the cafeteria, then sat down next across from her. {Stay! Be pleasant!} I thought to her. “Hi, Jenny, mind if I sit down. I’m Paul Harron.”

Jenny looked at me with a startled expression and said, “Uh, okay, I guess,” and looked questioningly at her girlfriends.

I thought to them as well. {Be pleasant. Leave us. Sit elsewhere.}

Heather Archer and Terri McBean smiled at Jenny and stood. “Guess you’ve got to talk to your new boyfriend,” said Terri. The pair giggled and walked to the other side of the cafeteria, despite Jenny’s protests.

Turning back to face me, she said in a confused voice, “But they know I’m not your girlfriend. How weird. What did you want, anyway?”

“Why, just to eat lunch with the prettiest girl in the school, what else?” I told her, at which she blushed. “Besides, maybe I could be your boyfriend anyway. Are you seeing anybody else?” {Tell the truth. Be positive about me.}

She shrugged and shook her head. “No, not really. I was going with Bud Hargrove for a while, but it didn’t work out.”

“So, you see, there’s nothing standing in your way, is there?” {You’d like to be my girlfriend.}

“Well, no, I guess not,” she said with a grin.

“Maybe you’d like to go out Friday night?” I asked. This part of the plan really wasn’t thought out too well. I didn’t have a license or a car.

“Uh, sure. I didn’t have anything planned. What did you want to do?” she asked.

I kind of shrugged. “I don’t know. My mobility is somewhat less than I’d like it to be.”

Jenny asked what had happened and I gave her a brief synopsis. When I told her I couldn’t drive, I really wasn’t lying, since I didn’t have a license, but I was going to have to rectify that somehow. Jenny offered to borrow her Mom’s car, so we could go to the movies, and I agreed. When we compared class schedules, we discovered that we both had the last period free, and agreed to meet in the library, to “study”.


“So, Jenny, have you ever, you know, gone all the way?” I whispered. {Be calm. Be truthful. Don’t be shocked.} We were sitting in a carousel towards the back of the library, with nobody near us.

Jenny was still shocked, but not too much. “Paul! What kind of question is that?”

{You’re my girlfriend. Be truthful.} “It’s an honest question. I want to know just what kind of girlfriend I have. So, what’s the answer?”

Jenny glanced around the library and lowered her head to mine, conspiratorially. Whispering even lower, she said, “Yes. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Really? Tell me more.” {Tell me everything.}

“Well, I started fooling around when I was thirteen, almost fourteen, and we were living in Denver. My boyfriend was about a year older than me and we would go over to his house after school to study. Actually, we were just necking, but that’s what I told my Mom, anyway. So, after a few weeks of just hugging and kissing, Bobby, that was his name, sort of brought his hands up and around to my front. By the time I figured out he was groping my tits he had stopped, so I didn’t say anything.” Jenny smiled proudly as she commented, “They weren’t as nice as they are now, but I thought they were pretty good for thirteen, you know.” She thrust out her chest as she said this, and I agreed that they looked fairly impressive.

“So anyway, the next afternoon, he started feeling up my tits almost from the start, and it felt so good I didn’t make him stop. Even then I really liked it. We kept this up for the next few days before he went farther and undid a few buttons on my blouse and slipped his hand inside. At first I was kind of nervous, but when he slipped his fingers inside my bra and played with my nipples, it just felt so good! Remember that. I really get off on having my tits and nipples played with!’

“No problem,” I said. “Tits and nipples are my specialty!” I whispered hoarsely. By now I had a cast iron boner that felt like it could drive nails!

“Well, the next day Bobby got right down to business. I mean, as soon as we lay down next to each other, he unbuttoned my shirt and reached around and popped my bra, then started licking and sucking my nips. I was in heaven! I didn’t even know at first that he had his hand under my skirt until I felt him rubbing my pussy through my panties! I tried to make him stop, but it felt so good, and he was so much bigger than me, and in no time at all his hand was in my pants. I had my first clit orgasm that day,” she said proudly.

“Cool! So, did you go all the way that day?” I asked.

Jenny shook her head no. “Uh, uh. After I got off, he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, but when he put my hand on it, he popped his cork, right then and there. I guess he was pretty excited, too. So, for the next couple of weeks or so he’d finger me, and I’d fist him off.”

“And your parents never caught on?”

“Nah. My folks figured I was Miss Sweetness-and-Light, and his mother always worked late. I always got home before dinner.”

“So, when did you screw him?”

“Hold on, hold on, I’m getting there. We’d been fooling around like this for almost a month now, and he wanted me to go farther, to give him head. But I just kept telling him no. See, I was setting him up. I knew what a blowjob was because one of my girlfriends had some dirty magazines. But his birthday was coming up and I was going to surprise him. The afternoon of his birthday, when we got to his house, I told him to lay down on the couch while I went to the bathroom. When I came out, I was butt naked. So far we had never gotten completely dressed. I just walked over to the couch, unzipped his pants, pulled it out, and went down. He just went nuts - I mean, he came like three times! It was such a gas.”

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “What about you? Did you like it, too?” I was curious.

“Oh, yeah. I used one hand on myself and got off a couple of times, too. Besides, I don’t care what some girls say, cum tastes great. I love to give head. I love to get head, too,” she said with a wink.

“Well, I can’t say as I’ve had lots of experience in that department,” I admitted, (Yeah, like none!), “But I promise to do my best. Scout’s Honor!” I gave her the Scout Salute and grinned. “So, what happened next?”

“Well, it was pretty much what you can imagine. I went down to Planned Parenthood and went on the Pill, and for my fourteenth birthday he popped my cherry. It was great!”

By now, our study hall was over, and we had to hurry to get to our busses. As we split to go to our lockers, I bent down and gave her a quick kiss.

Jenny’s face broke into a big grin. “Don’t worry, Paul. I’m the perfect girlfriend. I love to fuck!”


I could hardly wait until Friday night. We had decided to go to the movies, then grab a snack. Then, “whatever.” I was mightily distracted in class, especially when I had her tell me about fucking her various boyfriends. I almost immediately concluded that when Jenny liked a guy, she let him know it rapidly - like that night! I really had my hopes up for Friday.

I had told Mom that I had a date and she was pretty happy for me being able to get back into the swing of things, what with the crutches and all. That Friday, after school, I was fairly nervous. I must have changed clothes five times before dinner and kept glancing at my watch all through the meal. Sue started in with “Paulie and Jenny sitting in a tree…” but I told her to put a sock in it and Mom told her to be still. Still, Mom had a grin throughout the meal, and I could see her barely controlling her laughter every time I checked the time.

It was weird in way. Mom and I both had dates, and Sue was home on her own. Sue actually had to cook, since Mom was changing at the same time I was. Mom was wearing a halter-topped mini-dress and heels, and I just knew she was going to be doing the same things that Jenny had told me she was going to do to me!

Finally, we heard a horn beep and I bolted out the door to my family’s laughter. The movie was okay, although I really don’t remember it (something with Harrison Ford and a damsel in distress). When I later commented that I wasn’t all that hungry, Jenny simply grinned. Since she was driving we couldn’t really fool around, so I simply watched her as she drove us out of town and found a dirt road up in the hills. She looked very pretty, in an average date sort of way - tight blue jeans, satin blouse, sneakers. When she stopped the car, she pulled a blanket out of the trunk and spread it out on the back seat, then helped me hobble around to the back seat and crawled in after me.

Now I know that the first time is supposed to be somewhat awkward, and I have occasionally found it so. Two bodies, neither really knowing the other, fumbling around trying to see how the pieces fit. Well, excuse me, but IT WAS FUCKING GREAT! Once we got started, I knew, simply knew, deep down in my bones, that this was something I wanted to do a lot of. LIKE ALL THE FUCKING TIME! It was simply GREAT!

We started out with Jenny sitting sideways on my lap, simply kissing and necking, but it wasn’t very long before Jenny’s hands began to roam over my chest and back. Taking this as a signal, I brought a hand up and cupped one of her tits through her blouse. She gave a low moan into my lips as I gently kneaded her pliant flesh through the thin satin. It took me only about two heartbeats to figure out that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Well, you don’t have to hit me with a brick to wake me up! I figured any girl who lets you play with her braless tits on the first date is simply asking for it! I began to unbutton her blouse, and with about three buttons undone, slipped my hand inside.

God, but her tits were nice! Jenny didn’t have the world’s biggest breasts, I mean not like my mother or even my sister, but they were just incredibly firm. She told me later that she didn’t have to wear a bra, and really liked going without one. And the nipples - so tiny and pointy. When my fingers touched one for the first time, she shuddered and moaned some more, and immediately began to unbutton my shirt.

I decided to cooperate with her plans. Pulling my hand out of her shirt I began to unbutton the bottom half of her blouse but started to fumble around her waist. Jenny pulled back from kissing me and sat upright on my lap. Giggling, she said, “You need to practice this,” then unzipped her jeans and pulled out her shirttails and finished unbuttoning her blouse. I reached with both hands and began to teasingly swirl my fingertips around the exposed nipples and Jenny gave another brief shudder, this time closing her eyes and clasping my hands to her tits. Then her eyes opened, and she said, “Get undressed.”

“What?” I asked.

Jenny was already kicking off her sneakers. Looking at me, she said, “Hurry up. Take your clothes off. I have just got to fuck you!” Squirming madly on my lap, she worked those skin-tight jeans down off her ass and legs, pulling her panties off with them.

With only about half a brain functioning, I began to fumble at my shirt buttons, but was completely unable to take my eyes of my date. She was truly gorgeous, and I immediately realized that Ellen Radley was but a pale comparison to the hot and nubile girl on my lap. I had pretty much gotten my shirt undone, when Jenny attacked my pants, loosening my belt, popping the snap, and pulling down my zipper. Between the two of us we got my pants down my thighs to my knees, but things seemed to go awry at this point. In our hurry, neither of us had thought about my sneakers, and everything got a bit tangled. Jenny actually had to kneel on the floorboards and pull off my shoes and pants, one leg at a time, all the while giggling. Eventually I was left with only my briefs on, my cock acting as a tentpole, with Jenny kneeling on the blanket next to me, staring at my crotch in the moonlight.

Reaching over, she placed her hands on my hips and grasped my shorts at the sides. “Now let’s see what we have here,” she said, and began tugging my undies down. I lifted my ass off the seat as she pulled them lowed. For sure, I thought, she was going to find the waist band caught on my cock, but I guess mine weren’t the first briefs she had pulled off, because they came off very smoothly, and the next thing I knew we were sitting there, facing each other, buck naked.

“Oh, wow! What a nice big cock!” said Jenny, staring at my erection. She reached out and wrapped a delicate hand around the shaft and slowly began to stroke me.

Jesus! What was the problem with my dick? I wondered. First Ellen and now Jenny had said my cock was big. Was that good or bad? Mind you, this thought went through my head for just a moment. Once Jenny started to stroke me, the only thoughts in my head were absolutely carnal. I placed one of my hands on Jenny’s chest and moved the other between her legs. Jenny promptly obliged, spreading her knees wide, and I gingerly moved my middle finger into contact with her pussy.

It didn’t take me long to determine that women differ. Where Ellen had been moist enough once I began to diddle her clit, Jenny was hot and wet, her entire cunt a mass of oily wet fur. Not that she was real hairy, mind you; a few days later I learned that she kept her pubes well-trimmed. It was just that her patch was fairly dense. My finger burrowed between her cunt lips to the point where Ellen had shown me her clit was. The effect on Jenny was electric. Her hands stopped their cock stroking completely, her back arched, her eyes snapped shut, and a small shriek escaped her lips. However, she did not appear to be in any pain, so I kept up the foreplay. Kneeling beside me in that car, Jenny had her first Big O of the night.

After about half a minute, I eased up a bit and Jenny damn near collapsed onto me. “Oh, my God, that was great!” she exclaimed. “I have got to have some cock! Now, don’t move.” So, saying, she crawled onto my lap, facing me, with her beautiful thighs straddling mine. She moved forward till our crotches were almost joined, then raised up on her knees. Steadying herself with her left hand on my left shoulder, she reached between us with her right hand. The next thing I knew she had firmly grabbed my cockshaft and positioned my cockhead at her furry little slit, then lowered her knees. In about ten seconds I was all the way into heaven, or her cunt, which was the same thing.

My first fuck was marvelously anticlimactic. That is to say, it was both marvelous and anticlimactic. That it was marvelous goes without saying. Jenny’s pussy was impossibly tight, yet incredibly wet and slippery. However, it felt so good that after only about a minute I could feel my nuts starting to churn. Gasping weakly, “No, no, not yet!” my dick exploded up into her and I sagged backwards into the cushions.

Jenny sank down onto me, my dick still inside her, with a slightly disappointed look. “I guess I got you kind of excited.”

“Um, yeah, I mean, I don’t know, um…”, was about all I could stammer out.

A strange look came into her face. “What? You mean…? Paul, were you a virgin?” she asked, wide-eyed.

I found it very hard to look at her, so I just muttered quietly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jenny giggled. “You guess so?”

I looked at her sort of pissed. “Yeah, sort of. I’ve had a few hand jobs and even a couple of blow jobs, but I never, well, you know…”, I said angrily. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

Jenny’s eyes widened again, this time in shock. “No, no, no. I just didn’t know. I’ve never popped a cherry before, that’s all. It’s all right, it’s all right.” She leaned into me and hugged me tightly, so I hugged her back, somewhat confused. Here I was arguing with a girl I’ve still got a limp dick inside of. Well, not exactly limp, but not exactly the Rock of Gibraltar either. I must be an idiot I thought and began to rub her back.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was pretty mean and stupid of me.”

“It’s all right. You were just fine. Did you like it?”

I grinned. “Uh, yeah, actually I did, a lot. Um, can we do it again?”

Jenny leaned back so far her back was touching the front seat and began to laugh. “I should hope so!” I laughed too. Then she straightened up on my lap and said, “Now, you just sit there and let me do all the work.”

Thus began one of the best fucks in my life. Jenny began to squeeze her pussy muscles around my semi-limp cock while she began to carefully bounce her knees slightly, raising herself on my hardening dick an inch or two, then sitting back down on it. Unwilling to be a spectator, I brought my hands up to her breasts and began rubbing and pinching the nipples. I remembered how she had told me she likes her tits and nipples played with, and Jenny really did. With a quiet moan, she began to bounce more rapidly, and her excitement translated directly to my cock, which had regained its prior hardness, although I seemed more able to control events. Jenny leaned into me and kissed me hard on the lips, snaking her tongue into my mouth.

We screwed like this a good fifteen minutes or so, as our excitement built. By the time I finally popped my cork a second time, Jenny had been moaning and whimpering with pleasure for several minutes, her body shuddering as her pussy spasmed around my cock. I came with her, grunting my relief, letting go of her breasts so I could grab her hips as I spurted upwards into her. If our first screw had been good but a bit disappointing, neither of us could complain about the second.

We got it on one more time that night. After our second fuck, Jenny and I untangled ourselves and reclined as best we could in the back seat, Jenny resting on my chest as I leaned against a door. Jenny was a very wet fuck, and as soon as she lifted off my lap, a seeming flood of juices cascaded down onto my balls. I found it very erotic when she grabbed her panties off the floor and wiped her cunt and my crotch with them, drying us off. We rested there like that, chatting quietly, as we recuperated. Finally, before the evening was over, my soldier was saluting again, so I began to kiss her breasts and finger her cunt some more. Jenny gave a contented sigh and we repositioned ourselves, somewhat awkwardly, with me on top, and we got it on once again.

An interesting thing though. It was a hell of a lot easier to get dressed by opening the doors and stepping outside. There is simply no easy way to get dressed in the back seat of a car and not look like you just got dressed in the back seat of a car!


Jenny drove me home just before midnight, and I was able to witness one of the most amazing things. We parked across the street from my house and she turned the ignition off, so that we were in the dark, then we started to hug and kiss some more before I had to go in.

Only about a minute later another car pulled up in front of my house. {Ignore them,} I thought to Jenny. {Ignore us,} I thought to the occupants, who I couldn’t really see. Then the driver’s side door opened, and the other car’s interior light went on and I could see the occupants.

It was my mother! Her date had driven her home just moments after my date had driven me home. The fellow got out of the car and walked around to let her out, then walked her to the door with an arm around her waist. From my position and how the cars were parked I could see everything perfectly. The most incredible scene unfolded.

I must have been pretty eager to get out of the house earlier to have essentially ignored my mother’s outfit. I hadn’t realized just how extreme it was. I knew it was a blue halter-topped mini-dress, but that only begins to describe it. It was essentially backless, and I could see skin almost down to her ass. The skirt portion wasn’t much more than a thin strip, it was so short. And her heels had to be four inches high, at the minimum. I just knew those shoes were designed to spend evenings pointed at the ceiling!

Once they got to the front door, where a light was still on, they embraced and started to kiss. Lover boy’s hands were all over her back and butt, and Mom was on him like a cheap suit. Then it got really interesting! Slipping both hands down her ass, he pulled her skirt up and slipped a hand into the back of her panties. It was pulled high enough that I could see the tops of her really long stockings, and Mom almost melted into this guy’s arms. He pulled his head away from her lips and said something to her. She smiled and stepped back from him. She then pulled the hem of her dress up and pushed her panties down off her hips. Wriggling slightly, she slid them down her legs, then lifted them with one foot. Taking them from the toe of her shoe, she handed them to him, kissed him again, and went inside. Lover boy twirled them in his hand briefly, then trotted to his car and drove off.

Wow! Mom wasn’t simply sexually active; she was sexually hyperactive! I kissed Jenny one last time and went in a couple of minutes after Mom. She was in the kitchen drinking some iced tea and looking fantastic. She had a look that I have since come to realize means “well fucked” and had the sultry aroma of an aroused woman. More than anything else, she looked ready to hop back in the sack. I kissed her cheek and went to bed.

Don’t get me wrong. I was not jealous, nor have I ever been jealous of my mother’s or sister’s partners. It simply doesn’t seem to be in my nature. I love them both dearly and only hope they find as much joy and pleasure in the world as they can find. Things would get more interesting and complicated as time went on, but I have never once begrudged them a lover.


I remained celibate the rest of the weekend, since Jenny’s family went somewhere Saturday and Sunday. On Monday, however, we made plans to go over to my house after school to “study”. By now I was taking therapy Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Mom wouldn’t get home until six or so, and Sue had cheerleader practice until almost then, so we had several uninterrupted hours to get to know each other.

What we lacked in the spice of illicit car sex, we gained in the comfort of home privacy. After giving Jenny the nickel tour of the place, she led the way upstairs and we went into my bedroom. I collapsed onto the bed and tossed aside the crutches as Jenny closed the bedroom door. She came over and sat down at my side and we kissed briefly, then as if by mutual agreement, we separated and undressed. Even though we were both wearing pretty much the same thing (jeans, pullover sweater, and loafers - I had socks) it took me longer, simply because I couldn’t move my right leg very well. My right sock and pants leg took a bit of doing. Finally, naked, we simply looked each other over in the light of day, appreciating what couldn’t be seen that Friday night in her back seat.

Lord, but she was lovely, so slim and pretty. As I gained in experience, my tastes shifted towards shorter, bustier women, but to this day Jenny still ranks up there on the Harron scale. She had the longest legs, tapering nicely towards heaven, an almost black thatch of triangularly trimmed hair. Slim hips and a “bubble-butt”, a narrow waist. Lovely B-cup breasts sat high and proud on her ribcage, tipped by pointy little pale nipples. She had a classic Native American face, high cheekbones, thin nose, dark and somewhat Asian eyes, straight and almost black hair. And covering it all was her darkly complected skin, virtually flawless and unblemished, the only markings the surprisingly white tan lines of a bikini swimsuit.

Jenny stared at me as well and seemed approving of what she saw. While I am not one to brag, I was in good shape and have strived to keep myself in decent shape since then. I had basically regained all the weight I had lost in the hospital, and the physical therapy and exercise had definitely hardened me, especially in the chest and arms. You need a fair amount of upper body strength to use crutches! My dick was pointing upward, and she seemed to eye that appreciatively, too.

After a few moments of simply looking at each other, Jenny stretched out on the single bed and I followed, lying sideways facing her. Slowly we began to kiss, reaching with our hands to touch and fondle whatever we could. In short order, Jenny had one hand on my johnson while the other held my face to her breasts. I, however, was using both hands, one to gently finger her slit while the other rolled the nipple I wasn’t sucking between thumb and forefinger. She began to murmur contentedly almost immediately, then as I kept up the pressure on her clitoris, her responses became more heated. Jenny’s hips began to squirm all over the bed and her murmurs turned to moans. I knew she was starting to cum. Releasing her right nipple from my lips, I straightened and began to French kiss her, while my wrist went into high gear in her crotch. Jenny went nuts, dropping my cock and wrapping both arms around my back, she began bucking her hips into my hand and screaming her orgasm into my lips. Finally, I lessened my finger action and she quietly sagged back into the pillows, with half closed eyes and a contented smile.

“Oh, that was nice, Paul,” she said, opening her eyes to gaze lovingly at me. “It’s hard to believe that you’re, well…”, she trailed off.

Grinning, I looked down and finished, “Inexperienced?”


“Well, I’ve always been a fast study, especially in a subject I enjoy.”

Jenny smiled and wriggled around on the bed, centering herself and spreading her legs. “Would you like another lesson?” she giggled.

In response, I knelt between her legs and stretched out above her, my erection aimed at her pussy. Remembering a line from a bad B-movie, I said, “Be gentle with me.” Jenny laughed and reached down between us, to spread her cuntlips and guide me inside.


Jenny was gentle with me, and very educational, too. In retrospect, she was probably the best teacher I could have had, even if I had known any better. Since those days my tastes have matured and become more sophisticated, and like any lover, I have learned those little tricks that no sixteen-year-old knows. Jenny was simple and direct - she liked her sex without much pretense or preamble. There was little in the way of ritual or seduction; we simply took our clothes off and screwed. Jenny had decided years before that if she liked a boy enough to go out with him, she liked him enough to sleep with him.

Jenny enjoyed the basic positions, missionary and reverse missionary (girl on top), with only a few variations thrown in, like straddling me when on top. She enjoyed giving head and definitely enjoyed receiving head. The height of kinkiness for her was sixty-nine or doggy-style. However, in all fairness, she had the basics down pat, and she was very enthusiastic! Whether we were making love or simply fucking our brains out, she was always up for an encore. Or I should say, if she could get me up for an encore, she was more than willing.

Years later, I ran across Jenny while shopping in a mall and we had lunch. While she looked older (well, so did I, for that matter) she was still gorgeous. Married and quite monogamous (I didn’t use The Power to bed her, simply to quiz her), it was hard to believe that her slim and curvy frame had produced four children. Her husband had spent their honeymoon teaching her a number of new positions and tricks, and now she could give graduate level courses in screwing. I met him in fact, when he came into the mall to pick her up and found her dining with another man. I could see the worry in his face (he was shorter than her and a bit pudgy), but I simply introduced myself as an old high school flame, excused myself, kissed Jenny on the cheek, and told him, truthfully, that he was a very lucky fellow.


But that was years in the future. In the here and now, we simply screwed a lot. Our schedules were relatively complimentary; we could get together after school Mondays and Wednesdays and dated most Friday and Saturday nights. It wasn’t simply the sex, either. Jenny Blackhawk was simply a nice person to be around, with mutual friends and interests. Even if I hadn’t used The Power, we might well have hooked up at some point. Mom definitely approved of her, and her parents, Professors of History at the University of Georgia, thought the world of me once they learned of my interest in history. Her father even gave me a couple of books he had written, one on the history of several of the Southeastern Indian tribes, and another, a well-respected textbook, on the decline of the Native American in post-Columbian times.

That first afternoon, we fucked four times (ah, the powers of youth), twice with me on top, once with her straddling me, and then once more with me on top, and each time was absolutely fantastic! By the end of the afternoon, I had learned that size does matter, and that those few extra inches I possessed were very useful. I should specify that size only matters if the fellow is considerate and knows what to do with them, otherwise the girl definitely will not appreciate them. I was most content to let Jenny teach me what to do with those few extra inches (a total of nine inches - she measured me one day).

Jenny was a real moaner and sweater. By the time we were done, I had to strip the sheets from my bed and Jenny needed a fast shower. Fortunately, we were all done and cleaned up by the time Sue and Mom came home and I walked Jenny to her place. I did have to use The Power on my mother for one thing, though. When Mom came home, she went to her room and changed clothes, then rejoined us. She gave us a quizzical look, sniffing the air, and I knew she could smell the aroma of sex upstairs. I simply thought, {Forget the smell!} In the future, I made sure to open a window whenever possible.

Chapter 3 - Dates and Dalliances

Along around the beginning of November an astonishingly strange thing occurred, or at least it seemed strange at the time. It was Friday night and the only one going out on a date was Sue! Both Mom’s and my dates came down with the flu, while Sue announced that she was going to her first high school dance. She was very excited, since this was to be her first ’date’ date. Mom had said no dating until sixteen but had relented so that we could date once we got to high school, and my sister had been asked to go by a fellow in his junior year. Bobby Pritzer was a thin-as-a-rail pimply computer geek, but what the hey, it was her love life.

He was picking her up about eight or so, so after nervously trying things on in her room, she called Mom and me in and asked, “So, how do I look?”

Mom didn’t say anything right away, and I kind of simply stared. I guess I wasn’t too tactful when I replied, “You’re wearing that?”

Sue got real red and demanded, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Sue was dressed quite casually, but not what I like a woman to wear on a date. Her baggy black blue jeans did not cover the fact that her shoes were black Doc Martens and her oversized red sweater had a really wide neck, so that it tended to sag off one shoulder, exposing a plain white bra. “Nothing,” I said, “if you want to hang out at the mall with your friends. I thought you were going out to a dance.”

“Mom!” she screamed.

Mom looked at me disapprovingly, but before she could say anything I used The Power. {Work on her,} I thought to my mother. {Dress her up in something pretty and sexy. Lose this get-up.} To Sue I thought, {Listen to Mom. Cool down.}

“Now dear, I really think your brother, in his cruel and tactless fashion, has a point. This should be a big night, so maybe we can find something in my closet for you. I’ll just bet we’re close enough in size that I have a nice dress for you.” Mom took Sue by the elbow and began propelling her down the hall to her room. I tagged along.

“A dress? But I don’t have time to get all dressed up. Bobby’ll be here in fifteen minutes!” Sue complained.

“What’s his number?” I asked. Sue stared for a second, then told me his number. “Watch and learn,” I said.

Going to Mom’s bedside table I picked up the phone and called the Pritzer’s. Bobby answered. “Bobby, Paul Harron, how you doing? Listen, my sister asked me to call, she’s running a bit late, she needs you to come over a half hour late…No, no problem, she’s just getting all dolled up…I am not bullshitting you Bobby…Yes, she’s going to look like a million bucks…Now listen Bobby, I would suggest you wear something decent, you know, a suit or jacket, and a real shirt with a real tie…Fuck you too my friend…So what if I’m lying to you. What’s the worst that could happen, you take off the jacket and tie. But if I’m telling the truth and you look skanky and she’s gorgeous, you look like the asshole that you are…Same to you…See you at eight-thirty…Bye.” I turned back to my family and said, “There, problem solved. And you, sweet sister mine, are now obligated to get dressed up.”

Sue looked daggers at me, and Mom told me she didn’t like my language, but she said it with a smile. I grabbed my cane (I had just graduated to a single cane) and wandered down the hall. I was downstairs when the doorbell rang, right on the dot at eight-thirty, and opened it as Mom came down the stairs. I let Bobby Pritzer in and was pleased that he had dressed up as well as his geekiness allowed. At least he had on a shirt, tie, and jacket.

“Hi, Bobby, Sue is still getting ready,” said Mom. Looking up the stairs, she called out, “Sue, Bobby’s here.”

Around half a minute later, Sue made her entrance down the stairs, and Bobby’s jaw hit the floor. Literally! He was standing there goggle-eyed with his mouth wide open. My sister looked outstanding! Mom had loaned her a dress, which while conservative for Mom, was a far cry from what Sue normally wore. It was a dark brown print, calf-length, with buttons from the hem to the waist up the front. About two-thirds were unbuttoned, showing her legs to several inches above the knee. Above the waist, it had a pair of wide straps which wrapped around to the back and were tied in a bow, letting a woman tighten it to give a very figure-flattering look. The neckline was quite broad and circular, showing a trace of cleavage, and showed almost all of her shoulders. Mom had even loaned Sue a pair of low (for Mom!) two-inch-high heels. Sue had balked at makeup, but Mom had brushed out her hair, and she glowed in a wholesome manner. No doubt, she was a showstopper, and would probably be the belle of the ball.

Sue seemed delighted by the effect her appearance made and milked it for all it was worth, even twirling once at the foot of the stairs. “Well, how do I look?” she asked.

Reaching out, I tapped Bobby’s chin, and he closed his mouth. Coming out of his trance, he simply said, “Wow!” to which Mom and I laughed loudly.

“Offer the lady your arm, doofus,” I said. Bobby gave me a dirty look, but then smiled at Sue and cocked his arm out and she slipped her arm through with a grin. Then Mom gave Sue a kiss on the cheek and we sent them out. As they went down the steps, I called out, “Now Bobby, make sure you pay lots of attention to your date tonight, because if you don’t, about twenty other guys will!” Both Mom and Sue laughed at that.

Mom and I stood in the doorway watching, Mom leaning against me, while I had an arm around her shoulder, as they got in his car and drove off. Finally, Mom looked up at me and laughed. “Well, Pa, our little girl is growing up.”

I laughed too as I closed the door, then followed Mom back upstairs. She went down the hall to her room and I followed, to see her picking dresses off her bed and putting them back on hangers. I leaned against the door.

“I’m surprised, Mom. There is no way she could wear a bra with that dress.”

Mom looked over at me but kept cleaning up. “Sure, she could, if it was a strapless bra.”

“Sue owns a strapless bra?” I asked incredulously.

Mom smiled and picked up a pair of scissors. “She does now.”

I laughed. “You couldn’t lend her one of yours?”

“Paul, we’re not quite the same size, yet, although if she keeps growing up, I suppose we will be someday soon. I guess I’ll have to take her out and teach her about lingerie soon.”

“Buy her some new underwear, huh?”

“It’s not quite the same thing, Paul.”

“So, what’s the difference.” {Tell me. Show me.} I was starting to get fairly turned on by where this conversation was going. Let’s see where it could take us.

Mom hung the last dress in her closet and turned to face me. “Well, underwear you wear for yourself, lingerie you wear for someone else.”


“Uh, huh.” She held up one of Sue’s plain white bras. “This is underwear.” Dropping the bra on the bed, she grabbed the hem of her blue tank top. “And this is lingerie.” She whisked the tank top over her head and stood facing me in a small blue underwired brassiere. It was cut exceedingly low and was so transparent her nipples were visible through it. The overall effect was to lift her full breasts and present them for viewing (or whatever!) as if on a platter.

“That’s very interesting,” I said. “Does that come with a counterpart?” I asked, as my gaze dropped down past her narrow waist and deep belly button to her cut-off shorts.

In response Mom simply undid her waist button on the shorts and lowered the zipper. Pushing them down off her hips, she let them slide down her legs and stepped out of them. Her panties were part of a matching set, blue, quite small, and very transparent, although they seemed opaque enough to hide her pubic bush, which I couldn’t see. “See, this is not what you could call underwear,” she said. “Now, get out of here while I get dressed.”

I straightened up without taking my eyes off her. “Don’t change on my account. I like seeing beautiful women running around in their unmentionables.”

Mom smiled at the compliment. “Shoo.”

As I turned and left, I smiled back. Silently I used The Power to tell her that I liked seeing her in lingerie, and that she should wear it often in my presence.


By mid-December, I was stuck at home. Sue was at a girlfriend’s house for a combination birthday party-sleepover and Mom was on a date. I was dateless again, for the simple reason that Jenny and I had broken up. I had not used The Power to force her to be with me, only to make her my girlfriend. Well, boyfriends and girlfriends usually break up at some point, and so had we. In truth, Jenny had always had a bit of a roving eye and had begun flirting with a senior. And for my part, I had been dabbling on the side anyway.

My dalliances were at the gym where I worked out three times a week. I was no longer in therapy, but it was recommended that I continue to exercise, so I had joined a health club. On my third visit, I had noticed a good-looking middle-aged woman, forty or so, watching my progress closely, almost as if she was interested in me. As she passed by me, which she did several times, I sent out a thought, {Answer me. Like what you see?}

“Yes,” she verbalized.

{Let’s get acquainted.} “Hi, I’m Paul Harron,” I said.

The lady stuck out her hand, “Sherry Lanst. How do you do?”

{If you want me, let’s go somewhere and get it on.}

Sherry had a puzzled look on her face for a moment, as if she was coming to a decision. Then she came closer to me and lowered her voice. “Paul, don’t be offended, but I find you very arousing. Would you like to come over to my place for coffee, or whatever?” she asked.

Wow, talk about arousing! My dick, bent over inside my jock strap, tried unsuccessfully to rip through my shorts! “Sherry, I am not in the least offended. Why don’t we clean up and I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes?” We separated, whereupon I took the fastest shower in history, during the longest fifteen minutes of my life. Truth be told, we got to the lobby within a minute of each other.

“Follow me in your car. I live about ten minutes from here,” she said.

Sherry lived in a suburb on the west side of town and it was easy enough to follow behind her. I parked on the street and went up the walk to the door which she had left slightly open. I pushed it open and went in, closing it behind me. The first thing I noticed was her sweater, which was laying on the floor where she had thrown it.

“I’m up here.” She called out.

I picked up the sweater and went upstairs, picking up a T-shirt and a bra that I found on the stairs and in the hallway. As I entered her bedroom I saw that she was sitting on the bed, kicking off her shoes and tugging off her jeans. Standing, she pushed them and her panties together down her legs. Naked she lounged back on her bed and said, “Well, don’t just stand there, get undressed.” I got undressed. We never took our eyes off each other. My cock was fully erect by the time I had my briefs off.

Sherry may have been older than my mother, but she was still a fine-looking woman. A medium-height, medium-build bottle blonde, she had nice legs, firm breasts, a slim waist, and a triangularly trimmed brown bush. With much anticipation, I crawled onto the bed and stretched out next to her.

That was a preview of The Power. To read the rest purchase the book.

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