The Empath

I love this portion of the mind, and can spend hours just wandering about. Every mind is just so fascinating.

But when I'm looking for the real meat of sexual desire, I head straight for the little bedrooms at the back of the estate. Everyone has these little bedrooms, some close to the front of the house, some way back in a corner of the garden. I find them by following that beam of sexual energy that runs like a conduit through every corner of their psyche, subtle or vanishingly small in some people, in some parts, but bright enough to read by in Devorah and throbbing with life.

I followed this stream till I at last came to a large, round room, dim in the dusty light, like a kind of hub. It was furnished and made for sitting, and there were numerous pictures on the wall, portraits of Devorah in various incarnations: Devorah in various looks and ages and styles, in different angles, in different settings. Portraits of her as a career girl, a mother, a bride; as an earth goddess, a seductress, a lover, a movie star.

This was Devorah's persona gallery, the place where she kept her various understandings and ideas of herself, and I was glad to have found it so easily. From here it wouldn't be hard to find some of her deepest and most powerful erotic desires, because the most profound sexual fantasies always involve personal transformation and liberation from one's usual self, and would almost certainly involve changes to her self-image.

Radiating from the gallery like spokes on a wheel were any number of hallways which led to many doors, and I was quite certain that whatever deep secret fantasies she kept were stored down those passages in those rooms. The problem now was to pick the right passage.

As I considered I was struck again by the remarkable, almost supernatural, clarity and detail of her mental furnishings and architecture. Most minds are nothing like that, but tend to be fuzzy and indistinct, shadowy, indistinct, messy. But Devorah's mind had a sharpness and brilliance that let me pick out the finest detail of her portraits on the walls, or the various detritus and bits of clothing on the floor. It was no wonder her aura was so pure and clear.

But I must here interrupt this scene because I need to stress that I wasn't just working on her inside her mind. As fascinating as that was, all that wandering through the dusty hallways in my vision of her mind was almost automatic while I focused the bulk of my efforts on the two of us sitting on the sofa in my apartment. You see, in a project like this, you really have to control the subject's sensorium too, their sensations and physical experience. So while part of my mind was brushing through the cobwebs and distractions of Devorah's mind looking for the roots of her sexual desires, my more material self had slid right next to her and taken her in my arms and was laying my first kiss on her lips.

Devorah was mildly comatose, very relaxed, slumped back against the couch. Her attention was almost totally focused on following my image as I explored her psyche, kind of peeking worriedly over my shoulder, and so my kiss made her jump. This always happens, and they're always startled, because they all assume this is going to be an entirely mental experience like some sort of private wet dream.

But no, that's never the point. I could do that, sure, and have, but this was about making her feel it in this real world, in that physical body, in flesh and blood. But then they're always preoccupied with what I'm doing inside their heads and the sensations I kick up. The first touch always makes them jump, but happily, the experience of having your mind entered is amazingly erotic to the right people. There is no closer intimacy. .

So Devorah stiffened just momentarily when my lips touched hers, and then relaxed a bit as the kiss sunk into her. It took her a moment to respond, but then her counter-kiss was warm and accepting, but rather non-committal at first. She was still distracted and more interested in what was going on in her mind.

So I took a moment to plant some images in her brain: she was with me and we were lying in a sturdy canoe on some comfortable cushions, gliding under dipping willow trees. The sun was warm and I made her feel my love for her. Nature was in her glory and the very liquor of life was in the air, and I was sipping delicately at her lips like a bee at a flower. All was innocent, and terribly erotic in that springtime kind of way.

It had its effect, and Devorah perceptibly relaxed in my arms, sinking slowly into the sofa, her body softening, her hands sliding up my arms to embrace me. Of course it wasn't fair that I had access to her memories of the best kisses she'd ever had in her life, but these, it turned out, were very close to the way I would have kissed her anyway.

The kiss evolved from an introductory touch of lips to something much more sexual and intimate as she responded to me with a sudden display of erotic hunger, impatiently opening her mouth and arching up against me, breasts prominent, sinking her nails into my arm.

My God! I don't surprise easily, but Devorah's kiss made me shudder as it hit me like a bursting skyrocket, illuminating the both of us in all the brilliant colors of urgent female sexual need. It shocked me and engaged me on a level I wasn't expecting so early in the seduction. Her tongue slid boldly into my mouth and wrapped itself around mine, and felt like it was trying to pull me into her.

I should have known. I should have been ready. I'd never given even a moment's thought to what tangling with this kind of sexual energy would be like, but here it was.

She made a weak, mewling sound as we kissed and slid down lower on the sofa as if boneless. She backed off that open-mouthed sucking kiss, grabbed a gulp of air, and came back at me with eyes closed and mouth open and something softer and more seductive: a long, close, slippery kiss of lips as her tongue scoured the insides of my cheeks and then dipped down to lick the inner flesh of my lower lip, an area of shocking sensitivity and eroticism. She wasn't just kissing me, she was showing me through her kisses, either consciously or not, what her pussy would feel like and what she was going to do for me. The girl had my total attention.

Where had she learned to kiss like this? This was raw talent. No tricks or techniques or tips from Cosmo. This was the pure passion and emotion, and she staggered me. I was the expert, the master, a connoisseur, supernatural and super-powered and now I was holding on to her like she was a high-voltage power-line.

But I wasn't going to let go. I was all up in her mind now. I was leaning on top of her on the sofa kissing her, holding the back of her head as I fed on her mouth, but now my attention was up here in her mind, focused on my task of getting as close as I could to the source of this pure female libido. I just had to keep my wits about me and function in two worlds at once.

I broke the kiss, I had to, just to slow the rate of erotic acceleration and get my bearings. Devorah and I regarded each other, both of us astonished, and we tried to regroup.

I put all my attention back into her mind, back into those dark and disorganized rooms, messy, shadowy and dim, where the wind was now rising as Devorah's sexual excitement increased out in the real world. Excitement and strong emotion is a wind in the mind, a storm or gale, and the place was getting windy and darker still as Devorah started realizing the danger behind her passions and started automatically shutting down access to these deeper feelings.

Images and impressions of her blew against my face, bits of her clothes, her hair, snatches of songs, old memories and half- formed wishes, all the things she knew or had known about herself. Dreams and fantasies bounced past like tumbleweeds, conventional fantasies she was used to and not afraid of. I pushed them aside. I wanted the stronger stuff, the ones she kept hidden away as being beyond her understanding, feelings and images without words. I pushed on, getting deeper and deeper and farther from the light.

A door opened and I was in a large field, a room without walls, with grass underfoot and a naked night sky above. In front of me were the first outposts of her defenses, Devorah's mental image of the thoughts and feelings that protected her psyche and guarded her deeper feelings from unwanted invasions and raids. She pictured them as forts and walls flanked by thick forests and brambles, and even in the dark I could see the damage inflicted on them by the things her former boyfriend had done. They offered me no resistance now, and I walked and half-trotted between them as the gusting wind pushed me along.

I entered an impossibly thick and menacing woods, impenetrable if not for the hundreds of well-worn paths that ran in every conceivable direction as well as up and down over hills and into dells. This was no doubt the entrance to Devorah's sexual realm, and I might have been stumbling around in that wilderness of fears and desires for days had I not seen, some ways in the distance, the warm glow of a lantern filtering back through the tangled trees, She was showing me the way.

There's a point in every seduction, in every sexual encounter, where consent must be given. Otherwise, it's assault and rape, plain and simple. She may play coy, she may pretend to resist, but consent is either there or it's not. Consent is that point where two separate roads converge to become one shared purpose, or violently diverge in automatic fear and loathing.

Devorah'd been giving me encouraging signals all along but I'd still as yet had no clear sign of her true agreement and consent. Not till I felt that mental wind purposefully pushing me past those defensive fortresses and into those tangled woods. Not till I saw that lantern shining like a beacon to guide me through all the worries and fears of that tangled forest. I quickly found a path that brought me to that light, and beneath it was a big, thick door painted black.

At the same time, holding her in my arms in the real world, I felt her opposition, her stiffness and all traces of resistance suddenly collapse. Her muscles became soft, placid, compliant, as if all the tension was draining out of her. It was a surrender and acquiescence, an acceptance of what was about to happen between us, incredibly subtle, but absolutely unmistakable to my over-alert senses. And in that surrender I realized that in all my seductions and sexual philandering, it had never been the sex that was the actual point. It was this feeling of a woman's surrender and acceptance. And as if I needed any further proof of the potency and power of this feeling, at just that moment, the big black door swung slowly open in silent invitation.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with love for this girl, overwhelmed with gratitude and awe and amazement, and shame--yes, shame--shame for the way I'd tried to manipulate and deceive her. And at the same time, the feel of her abandoning all signs of resistance drew from me a sudden wild animal lust and urge to pierce and possess, along with some completely contradictory feelings to cherish her with an almost urgent tenderness.

All this mucking about in her mind hadn't taken but a fraction of a second—the speed of thought, after all—but this surrender slowed down and happened in real time and I knew the game was up. Consent had been given, our paths had converged, her body was mine.

And mine was hers because in the most remarkable occurrence just as I was absorbing these frenzied thoughts and emotions from her mind, I felt the uncanny sensation of her in my mind and absorbing mine. It felt as if Devorah had somehow managed to penetrate me and wrap herself all around my insides like some beautiful, succulent vine, and she was feeding off my own feelings of her, enjoying my own enjoyment of her, feeling the muscular resistance of her ass as I squeezed it, the heavy gravid weight of her breasts as I massaged them. It was the most extraordinary sensation, as if she'd climbed into my mind as well and was clinging to me and moaning with pleasure as I caressed and violated her.

I was feeling both of us, both my perceptions and hers, and it must have been then that I realized that Devorah was empathic too, even Super-empathic, and had I been more in control of myself at that point or even just capable of the most elementary basic kind of thought, I would have stopped what I was doing and pulled back and separated and cooled off and tried to figure out what was happening.

But I wasn't in control and I wasn't cool and the wind through the forest was shaking the trees and in my arms Devorah was pushed against me raising her hips so I could strip off her shorts and panties and from that dark room behind the black door in that tangled and thorny forest she was shouting at me not to stop and not to slow down, but to come in, come in, come in to her deepest chambers, to the things in the darkness; the root and soul of her desire, the heart of her eroticism, the dark engines of her need.

I didn't pause to examine any feelings though. I knew I had to hurry, so in the real world I quickly tore off her clothes and left her all splayed out and naked beneath me, her legs spread shamelessly, her whole body open and vulnerable and receptive. I knew what she wanted: to be taken, to be possessed, held down, mastered, and entered. To be taken and consumed by my ravening hunger.

Devorah was frantic now as I shucked off my clothes and climbed on top of her. She was pulling at me, thrusting her hips, grinding. We'd gone too far, gone too deep, and now a new wind arose, blowing from the dark room in her mind and somehow spilling out into the real world where we lay on the sofa and blowing the curtains, the pizza rinds, bits of paper around. In the storm of passion I'd lost control and started to actually visualize, to call mental images into sensible objective reality and now the room was on fire: fire round the sofa and fire on the floor, fire out the windows and fire in the sky.

I threw myself into that dark room, into that final inner sanctum of Decorah's sexual core, at the very same time that I plunged my cock into her wet and fervent slit, swollen, ripe, sweetly tight and resistant. How big was I? Of course I can control that! I'm the dream man of fantasy and can be any size I want, and here I wanted to be big, hard and overwhelming. I wanted to be definitive, perfect: big enough so she would feel my entry as a gratifying pain, a penetration and prelude, a price she paid for the pleasure to follow. I entered her and held myself there as she gasped and clenched me, than backed off and let herself adjust to me, becoming snug and welcoming, and softly quivering with need.

This was contact, tis was connection, this was two spirits joined in conjunction, and I could tell as soon I was in her that this was more than just garden variety horniness on her part, more than just a need to get laid. It wasn't just the sex, but the meaning behind it: two bodies in union and intimacy, parts of each other.

She slowly wrapped her arms and legs around me and cautiously pulled me into her, raised her hips and pressed up against me, seeking maximum contact. She was vibrating. Her entire body was trembling and shaking so much that she could hardly move, but that shaking was enough. Jacked up on the amplified emotions, the imaginary journey, the erotic feelings I'd been bombarding her with, she lost all control and climaxed against me in short, fierce spasms, her body arched and her head thrown back, her face the very mask of erotic surrender.

At that the fires went out. The wind stopped blowing. Devorah calmed down, and I did too. I was still inside her and still held in her feminine grip, but the crisis was over. Now we just had the sex.

I fell into her then. I fell into her kiss like dropping into a whirlpool; tasting her woman's need for my own maleness and weight, for my own rough touch and my need to take, devour and possess. For the first time I feet the full power of the female force that complements the male's driving aggression, and it was the power of giving, taking, of drawing in and accepting, offering one's self and sacrificing it to love.

But that falling was my own surrender, and as I willingly let myself go, I felt her in my mind, guiding me in that that last chamber, holding my hand, calm and unafraid.

And there she showed me the feelings, the images, the desires, of all that was at the heart of her sexually: the hunger for closeness, contact, and touch, glowing with an aura of love, trust, and tenderness. And right next to it an image of her bound, helpless and vulnerable, clothes torn and disheveled, blindfolded and gagged and offering her total surrender to be taken and used for whatever I desired.

And there too was her biological self as a generator of life, in a chain unbroken from the blur of pre-consciousness, running right past us and all the way off to the disappearing perspective of a future unknown. And the feelings that came from her as she showed that chain were like nothing I'd ever felt before, far beyond my spark of awareness. But compelling and so beautiful that I totally tranced out for a moment, totally lost track of my own individuality, and was ready right then to die and live forever.

Devorah bumped me with her pussy, thrust up at me and her eyes were gleaming. Hazy from her orgasm and from this celestial vision and she was suddenly there, in my head, as close to me as Id ever been to her, and she was telling me one thing, over and over: "Fusion! It's time, it's time!"

And so it was then that she, in her open vulnerability and loving helplessness, and me in my selfish power and mad egotism, came together, and our two energies collided inside us like a blazing nuclear explosion. I was in her and of her in every sense, on every level, with every meaning that could ever be imagined. I thrust into her and she pushed up and in that weightless, effortless, frictionless friction, male half met female half and formed the perfect whole which was so much bigger than the sum of its parts.

On that little sofa my living room and in that imaginary chamber in her mind, we came together in the throes of something wild and impossible: the meeting of these two white hot energies in a room somewhere nowhere over the streets of a city crowded with confused bits of sexual thunder who had no idea who they really were.

And in a story made up out of a madman's head we clung together trembling and I relaxed, surrendered, accepted, and we dissolved in each other, just like that. The two empaths came together in perfect fusion.

===============

The canoe glides silently onto the darkened lake without a ripple to trouble the moon's reflection or disturb the song of the frogs in the nodding rushes. On the earth, in a dream, in the words of the story, Devorah and I float, paddles up, untroubled, right where we belong. On the sofa in her living room in the words of this tale, we still contend, our mouths sealed together by the suction of desire. Above the waist is all angelic kissing and loving hungry tenderness, while below, engorged animal cock thrusts hard into wet primal cunt and she digs her heels into the cushions for leverage, thrusting up her hips with amazing female fuck strength, taking me deeper into the brilliant darkness within.

There's no attempt to delay the crisis or prolong the sex. There's no need to delay because this moment will be forever from now on, over and over again, as we will never be apart. She pulls her mouth from the kiss only to breathe a sigh of thanksgiving in my ear as she cums with a sigh like the sound of surf as it surges on a beach and floods me, triggering my own gushing release.