Sex on the Brain Ch. 01

by Richard Williams Copyright 2004, All rights reserved

Contributed by Richard Williams for the enjoyment of Literotica's readers. This fictional story is copyrighted and may only be used for your personal pleasure. It may not be sold, distributed, or posted on another website without the author's permission.

Case 96-1 Sex on the Brain - Part 1 by Prof. Richard W. (formerly of the University of ____________)

Ginna:

This is a report on a very pleasant, but disconcerting, set of experiences which I have been through. As you know, I cannot get it published in any of the respectable journals, but perhaps you will enjoy it. Even though it is out of your field of aeronautics, I know that with your various private interests that you will be able to take deep pleasure from this incident. I also know that you have been among my few defenders as I struggle with this envy-attack from my department head.

There is much agreement among the experts that our brains are the most important, influential organs of our sex life. You have heard that said, and you are seeing it in action right now as you fill in all the assumptions and presuppositions needed to make sense of my writing. You know, too, how your brain picks and chooses from old experiences to fill in gaps in new information. [This is awfully basic, I know, but I hope that you won't mind my thinking out loud as I write this. I just have to get it down on paper.]

Anyway, for example, if I say "Tom Dinkens" you will immediately recall that big football player who you took home for some extra credit. If I say "Tom, you didn't do your home work again!" you will enjoy thinking of that paddling game with him, and so forth. I can see you grinning at that, eh?

So we're comfortable with the idea that when we think about someone out of our past experiences, we have a lot of background information on them. We even use that to sketch new people or situations. If I tell you that my nephew Wilson is going to come up to your school, you probably will not be more than mildly interested, especially given the name he was stuck with. But if I tell you that my nephew Wilson, who really reminds me A LOT of that Tom Dinkens fellow, will be coming, I can see you blushing with interest right now. In fact, I can imagine that blush going all the way down, so that you are feeling wet even before I get into my report. But, and here is the interesting part, what happens if you suddenly realize that you know things or perhaps understand things which you did not already gather through experience. What if those things just appeared in your brain? That is what I am writing you about.

THE PREPARATIONS

I am not sure if you recall Jeanne Yvette Boudreaux. She is the older student from northern Louisiana who was in my Parapsychological Investigations seminar last year. You met her just once, when Tom drove you down for the Federal Grantsmanship seminar. Yes, the time when you introduced him to the Regional Administrator in her room at the Holiday Inn with a wink and a nod, and then took off for the library for a few hours! I remember teasing that story out of you. She did approve that grant for your department did she not?

Yes, as you suspected, Jeanne and I were sort of lovers that semester, but I never had the chance to tell you how it came to be. That was after the campaign to kick me out had been hinted at, and so I was on my best behavior. Some student unintentionally played a part, though-- he stuck a couple of art postcards in between the PSI cards with which I was testing her for extra-sensory perception. They were of romantic nude scenes, gods and goddesses about to mate, that sort of thing.

As Jeanne was not aware that it was a sophomore joke, she began focusing on the pictures in the same way that she had so earnestly focused on the little squares, triangles, arrows, etc. of the psychic test cards. As she did, I began to become aware of her sensuality, noticed the reddish tint of her auburn hair, and found myself thinking of her joining me in bed. Even if I was not planning on saying anything to Jeanne, it was fun to imagine that happening, and so as she proceeded through the other cards, I let my mind wander with her.

She had said nothing about the erotic cards. You can imagine my surprise as I focused on her going through the motions with the cards, when I felt a tremendous wave move through me. I adjusted myself. She put down the cards and looked up at me.

"Professor," she sighed, "I guess I'm going to have to do something about that hard-on, because the way it is now, you are keeping me from concentrating on this test."

I must have blustered something about "...how could you know....?"

"You are filling my mind with erotic images-- they're overflowing from your mind to mine, I suppose." She undid one button on her blouse. The lace seduction of the curve in her breast hinted at sensuous secrets still covered. "I'll just loosen up my clothing and we'll do it right here."

"No, Jeanne!" I struggled to get that out. "Uh, I'm trying to give up sex with students these days, in case you've heard anything to the contrary."

"Professor, I'm a 41-year old married woman, I'm not one of your not so innocent 20-year olds. There isn't such a thing as giving up sex with me. If I want to have you, I'm going to have you. I'm not interested in the politics of that, I can get that at the dinner table from my jerk of a husband."

"What if I don't want to be had?" I edged back in my chair. Jeanne did the same, but it was to let me see her crossed legs in their black stockings. My eyes automatically slid up to her skirt.

"Richard," she purred now, "you probably wonder whether my panties complement these stockings. I have news for you... I'm not wearing any panties." She grinned at me as she rose from her chair. I felt a surge, and my penis dampened my briefs with an urgent supply of softening fluid.

"You don't believe me do you!" She seemed more amused than angry as she made that observation. "Just relax right there, and let's think about it." She stood in front of me, leaning against a partition with her right hand, and leaning slightly forward, her legs planted apart. She closed her eyes slowly, and puckered her lips as if to kiss, but it was in the air above me. Gently at first, and then with mounting energy, she began to grind her hips... and, as she did so, I could not help but imagine her closing around me.

She reached under her skirt with her left hand, raising it enough so that she could be comfortable... and so that I saw that she was not kidding about having come panty-less. Her motions, or perhaps her thoughts, were simply perfect. I glanced at my desk drawer, and she must have caught the movement of my eyes.

"Your condoms, yes, they're in the drawer. Why don't you put one on? You will need it in a few minutes." It must have been my eye motion, she just guessed that, I told myself. I slid the drawer open and pulled out the selection which I had kept handy for conferences with some of my female students.

"The plain Trojans, Professor, they'll do...." Jeanne smiled as I rummaged through the little packages. Had she looked over and seen them? How was it that she knew what I was looking at? I wondered what her game was, but it certainly was fun playing along. I unzipped myself and worked my straining manhood free. Unfettered, I rose rapidly, and easily rolled the old-fashioned, unlubricated latex over my tip and up to my wiry brown curls. I was not even sure why I kept these around, since the typical office conference sex with my students was too hurried to go without lubrication. My attention returned to the mature woman swaying sensuously before me, her eyes half-closed as if in a trance.

I rose from my chair to move to her.

"No!" she commanded. "You didn't believe that this was in our heads, did you? Let's find out... in the interests of science, of course." She continued swaying. "Perhaps you would answer some questions for me."

"Uh, sure...." I stumbled, not knowing where this was leading.

"I know that you have had many women, and that they have enjoyed you, and you them, but which one meant the most to you? You needn't answer that, just think of her...."

I could not help flashing to Meg, the woman who I had truly loved, and all the images of our wonderful time at the Oregon Coast came streaming into my mind.

"And now, as you think of her, the image of her that is strongest will come to your attention..... and I see her in bright stripes of some color... interesting... not flowers, but bold colors...."

How could Jeanne know that I had thought of Meg in her band uniform jacket and swashbuckling cummerbund, the way that she had come to me when we first made love? As I thought of what she had said, my image of Meg coming toward me in that surprising outfit became stronger and stronger.

"The more you think about her, the more excited you are becoming,

Professor. I can see the ocean waves are carrying your thoughts to her. Can you imagine anything more exciting than being with her right now? Perhaps something twice as exciting?" She drew the last phrase out in a tantalizing way.

What could be twice as exciting? I started to tell her that nothing could be twice as exciting, and then a strangely beautiful thought came to my mind. I closed my eyes, and Jeanne and Meg were both with me. Meg kissed me tenderly over my chest, leaning over me in a way that kept her breasts pressed against my back-- and Jeanne knelt over me and began to guide my staff into her hungry femininity.

I tried to tell myself that this was not really happening, and it was not of course, but I did hear Jeanne's calm words evolving into breathless passion.... "the more you think about her.... the more excited you will... come!" And I felt the hopelessness of holding back, and it would feel so good to let go, and suddenly the condom bulged with my flood. I blinked, and saw Jeanne before me, urgently stroking her clitoris, taking herself into a shuddering orgasm.

"Wow!" I finally was able to exclaim, with a sigh. "How did that happen?"

"I can't completely explain it, but somehow when I concentrate on thinking of someone, I end up thinking with them. I can feel some things that they are feeling, and get some ideas from them... or perhaps give them some ideas."

"But," and I asked the million-dollar question, "how much detail can you pick up that way?"

Jeanne laughed.

"No, I can't read poker hands, Professor! This is not very commercially useful. It can even be a nuisance or a sorrow at times, just depending on what is happening."

"So you can deal with simple things, like me thinking about whether a condom is plain or lubricated, but not the expiry dates stamped on them?"

I was still trying to narrow down her ability into some sort of category.

"Not even that way. I could tell if you thought it was simple or fancy, perhaps that's the best way to put it." She said this slowly and smiled.

"Well, if you would like to talk with me about this, I want to know more, you can see that. Uhhh," and I paused awkwardly, "and as you can see, I need to do something with this condom."

"Of course!" She grinned and straightened herself up.

We spent a few minutes finishing up the PSI test. Interestingly, she scored no better than many in her demographic group. It really was not getting at the ability which Jeanne had just demonstrated. And that she was perfecting. I used the word "perfecting" intentionally, because as we chatted, I learned that she was only gradually becoming aware of what she could do with it. With me and in many other cases, it had a sexual edge-- partly because I had been thinking about sex, but also because it seemed to be a talent which was developing as she had less and less sex at home.

She outlined her situation as I hurriedly took notes. This ability was something of which she only gradually was becoming aware. There was nothing peculiar about her background, except that she could recall a couple of off-hand remarks by her grandmother to her mother about "how things seemed to even out as we go along...." This made no sense to her at the time.

Married with only limited sexual experience beforehand, she had begun her sexual life with enthusiasm, read articles about it, took hints from friends. Their baby daughter, now a teenager, was a beautiful result. Things seemed to be going well, but over time, the typical problems emerged. She and her husband were still together, and she wanted to keep it that way, if at all possible. But in the middle of the night, she found herself waking up wanting something more.

Ginna, as you and I have discussed, that is not uncommon. You told me how much pleasure it gave you to visualize a man who interested you, to feel that you are with him, and to do that so intensely that in your orgasm you feel that he is truly with you. And, as you pointed out, when the time comes to actually take him as a lover, you are just enjoying re-enacting something which you know has already happened.

Jeanne began with that, but as she grew more comfortable with the experience, it took an interesting twist. This phenomenon began to take shape, in which she could seem to merge her thoughts with the person she was thinking of.

It first came to her that this was more than a pleasant fantasy when she had given herself a wee hours diversion with thoughts of the student intern in her office while her husband snored next to her. Gil was a slender and tall basketball player, who was just getting control of his body. Sometimes he moved so gracefully that women drew in their breath, and then at other times, he fell over the furniture. Somehow, that night she found herself enjoying the contrast of his ebony skin against her paleness, and as she drowsily savored bringing him to a climax, imagined that they would meet for lunch that day and just enjoy sharing in each other's company while talking about work topics. She drifted off to sleep with a smile and thought no more about the idea.

You can imagine her surprise when Gil turned up at her desk at 11:45 with his letterman's jacket on, sure that she had told him the day before to be there for lunch. Of course, she made time available for that, and as they ate, gently worked around the edges in conversation to find out why he had thought that they had a lunch date. It became clear that he had no recollection, but it had just seemed like a good idea. And it was-- she really had a positive feeling about their conversation, and discovered that she could help him with some career advice.

With some trial and error, she had arrived at the point where I met her. In fact, these experiences were what led her to take my course. She was beginning to think that she understood her grandmother's oblique references, and she wanted some professional assistance in working out the scope of it. It seemed like her mind was developing new abilities to offset the lack of attention in her own sex life. Things were evening out, as her grandmother had put it.

"Jeanne," I interrupted her. This is a lot of information to digest... and speaking of that, we used up a lot of energy just now... and it's lunch time. We should get something to eat, and continue this discussion. Have you tried Ginza Express?"

"I was hoping you would say that!" Jeanne grinned. I thought for a moment about what she said, and then exploded.

"Are you kidding, or are you trying to tell me that you wanted to go there already?" This stuff could still be a coincidence, I told myself.

"Let's get some food, Professor, before you get cranky. And we can try some little experiments along the way."

Ginza Express has a window where you can sit at a counter looking out onto the street, but the window is tinted so that people really cannot see in. Jeanne and I talked more about her family life as we people-watched and I told her some things about my how my research project was coming. I was doing fine, holding the rice between the chopsticks, although thinking of Jeanne I imagined my fingers caressing her clitoris between them just in the same way-- firmly, but not too tight. It was fun remembering our strange moment together, and I thought that was it. I wondered if I was thinking about her clitoris so much because I was getting horny, or because she was sharing her thoughts with me. How could I know?

But suddenly, something really strange and exciting happened.

A young woman in a green blouse and black slacks came walking by with what I guess was her boyfriend. She looked a bit irked at him and was explaining something to him. I didn't think too much about it, but noticed that they stopped at the campus bus stop a little ways away from the restaurant, and she stood with her back to me. She and he were still arguing about something.

She was pleasantly attractive, and I thought that it would be great if she were to turn so that I could see her in profile. She did! Almost in a whisper, Jeanne murmured that to me that she and I could be on the same wavelength with this girl, and that she could enter her mind subconsciously, and that she might start to do what I wanted her to do.

And as that thought penetrated into my subconscious, the unaware target of our curiosity turned further, maneuvering her boyfriend out of the way. Of course, then I wanted to see her walk past me, and sure enough, she did. He came dragging along. It was a lot of fun, imagining that Jeanne was guiding her. The young woman paused, and used the mirrored window of the restaurant to check her hair, and then they were on their way.

"That could have happened anyway," I whispered to Jeanne. She nodded and made no comment. She was looking over my shoulder.

Two well-dressed women brought their trays over from the direction where Jeanne had been looking. They sat down next to me and started talking about the guys in their office. They were embarrassingly candid, and I must have blushed a bit.

"Want to hear more from them?" Jeanne whispered on my right. On my left, I learned that Linda, some coworker of theirs, bought all her office clothes from the Victoria's Secret catalog.

"Let me try something else..." Jeanne whispered again. She picked up her chopsticks and snared a square of tofu from her Miso soup. And held it to her tongue just closely enough that she could let her tongue move back and forth over it.

On my left, the two office ladies began discussing the ins and outs of oral sex. I turned to Jeanne, and saw her off somewhere in a near-trance, tonguing the tofu. She balanced it on the tip of her tongue for a moment, then swallowed.

"Jack Simpson's dick would taste good just about now!" I heard that on my left as I swallowed hard. The other woman on my left laughed throatily, as the two of them rose and walked out. Jeanne sighed a tired sigh, and nearly folded up on me. I grabbed her so that she would not fall off the counter stool, and insisted to her, in an almost belligerent tone, that this could still be total coincidence.

"Maybe those women talk like that all the time! I don't know them. I can't prove anything about what just happened." I was steaming, partly because I wanted to believe what I had just seen and heard, and partly because I knew that there was nothing scientific about the experience.

"I know that you want to categorize this experience and quantify it, Professor...."

"Call me Richard," I interrupted. It seemed that after watching me masturbate at her suggestion, that we might be a bit less formal with each other.

"...but, Richard, I don't understand what it is myself yet. And the results are not very predictable. Sometimes nothing happens, or nothing that I can see."

We were finished with lunch, and with this demonstration. Somehow, we wandered back to my office and found ourselves standing very close, with the door closed.