Telepathy

I have telepathy. I didn’t before last weekend, but now I’ve got it. I used a condom so I have no idea how I got it. No matter how I got it, it’s there.

I discovered I had it on Saturday afternoon. I was in the library looking for an erotic book to distract me from my nightly visions of unicorns frolicking with puppies. I never get any wood with that vision and it’s really fucked up my love life. I can only have sex during daylight hours which makes it difficult to nail women I’ve just met. They often want to go out to dinner or to a club after dark and, of course, I’m having visions of unicorns and puppies by then which ruins any chance I have to get sexually aroused. The hottest, sexiest women have gone home crying because I, a mere schlub, just shrug my shoulders and say, “Meh,” when they kiss me and grab my crotch. I’m completely flaccid when they do this. It never happens to them so they start to doubt their sex appeal. I’m ruining hotties left and right. That’s not good for anyone.

As I was saying, though, I discovered I have telepathy while at the library. I was looking through romance novels and books about whips and chains when I accidentally bumped into a woman. I turned to apologize but before I could say anything I saw the cover of the book she was holding. The title was, “Having Sex with Strangers in Libraries.” I took this as a sign that I might have a chance to hook up with her. I don’t know why I thought that. My significant powers of intuition? Maybe. I thought it was probably due to the fact that I can read and happened to know the definitions of all the words in the title combined with my contextual acumen: Book about having sex with strangers in library; I’m a stranger to this woman holding the book; ergo, she may want to have sex with me.

I didn’t want to make assumptions, though. Instead, I poured on the charm, “I’ve read that book. It only works if you follow through. I’m willing to help out if you want to test the hypothesis.” I believe in advancing the interests of science so a sexual experiment seemed in order. She looked at me in a way that I could only interpret as ready to rip off my clothes and fuck me in the aisle of erotic books. I began to unbutton my shirt, but as I was doing so I heard a woman’s voice in my head.

“Who is this loser? My God, I’m completely creeped out. Now he’s unbuttoning his shirt. Luckily there are three other people in the aisle so I don’t have to worry about being raped. This guy can’t possibly be this stupid, can he? Does he really think I’m turned on, that because I’m holding this absurd book I’m interested in having sex with him? I’ve never felt my pussy so dry in my life. Somehow it’s getting even drier. If it gets any worse it’s going to crumble. Tourists are going to visit my pussy believing it’s a Roman ruin from two thousand years ago. Tour guides are going to say, ‘Here is a once glorious pussy that was desired by men of all types. It was always moist and glistening in its day until it looked into the face of a sexual deviant, a sort of Medusa of the vagina, and the pussy turned to stone and quickly crumbled leaving these ruins you see before you. If you squint you can see the cracked clit that had given Gloria profound pleasure and countless orgasms.’”

I was stunned. I stopped unbuttoning my shirt. I noticed I had no life in my penis. It was daytime, but there was that damn unicorn frolicking with a puppy. That fucking bitch! No, no, she didn’t say that aloud, she didn’t know she was completely destroying my sexuality. I frowned and began buttoning my shirt. I said to Gloria, "Your pussy isn't going to crumble and become a ruin visited by tourists." As I turned to go, I heard a thud. I looked back and saw Gloria had dropped the book. Her whole body was limp, her mouth was open, and her eyes were filled with confusion and terror. Fuck, why did I say that? Well, it’s not like I’d had a lot of experience being a telepath.

Gloria said, “How did you …” She trailed off. I didn’t know where she was going with the potential question. I was confused. My intuitive powers weren’t working. Fortunately, I now had telepathy so I tried listening to her thoughts. Nothing. A total blank. Maybe it had been a fluke. Why couldn’t I hear her? I stood there for almost a minute and then I heard her inner voice, “Oh my God, what was that? Did he hear my thoughts? Can he hear these thoughts?!”

I blurted out “Yes,” and then covered my mouth with my hands. Fuck, why did I say that? Of course, I knew why. I have no impulse control. I’d gone years just doing whatever I felt or thought without thinking about it first. A friend told me to see a shrink so I did. The fucker diagnosed me as having some sort of impulse-related disorder. I can never remember the name. Anyway, knowing the diagnosis didn’t help and there are no pills for it. Well, there are some pills, but they completely shut down my sex drive and my desire to get out of bed … ever … so I stopped taking them. I huff airplane glue now because I believe it helps. I don’t know. I like the brief high, though. Kills brain cells they say, but that’s bullshit. I mean, look at me, I’ve been having visions of unicorns and puppies and now I have telepathy. We don’t even need brain cells, anyway. The ability to think comes from ideas that have no physical substance. They descend from clouds which is why I choose to live in environments with plenty of precipitation. There’s a correlation between intelligence and cloudiness. It’s a proven fact because I believe it is. Like I said, I’m into science.

Anyway, this chick, Gloria, she’s standing in front of me even more freaked out that I said “Yes.” I decided to alleviate her fears by getting back to the subject of the book she dropped. I said, “Look, we should probably have sex. You were looking at the book and you thought it was ridiculous, but I think there’s plenty of merit to it. Plus, it’ll take your mind off of my telepathic powers. Just visualize my cock going in and out of your wet pussy. It’s a sure fire way to make it happen. Trust me, my wrestling coach in high school always told me to visualize pinning my opponent before a match. I did it and every time I did I got pinned so obviously it works.”

Gloria was shaking her head during the entirety of my brilliant advice. She started thinking when I stopped. “Oh my God, he’s mentally retarded. I’m standing in front of a mentally retarded psychic. This is absurd!”

I said, “Gloria, it’s not nice to call people retarded. It’s politically incorrect and rude.”

Gloria said, aloud, “No, mental retardation is a real condition. It’s not politically incorrect at all.”

“It is if you think it in a mean way.”

Gloria thought, “Huh, he’s got a point. I guess I may as well think directly to him since he can hear my thoughts. Um, I’m sorry. You’re right, I was being rude. It’s just that, you’re acting like a buffoon.”

I interjected. “Buffoon? Is that like a cartoon buffalo?”

Gloria laughed so hard she doubled over. Finally, my good nature was winning her over.

Gloria said, “You are an idiot, but your cluelessness is surprisingly endearing.”

Ah, she did like me! I felt my supreme confidence returning. My dick was getting hard again, too. “So, are we going to have sex or what?”

Gloria started laughing again. This time her eyes were watering and snot shot out of her nose. I don’t know why, but that made me even more turned on. “Gloria, just imagine how good the sex would be. I’d be able to hear your thoughts and if I was doing something you didn’t like I’d know instantly. You’d think something like, ‘No, not that hole, you moron,’ and I’d know to try one of your other holes.”

Gloria couldn’t stop laughing. Snot was flowing out of her nose and as she bent over drool was dangling in a long string between her mouth and the floor. I estimated it was a good three feet of unbroken spit. Impressive. It broke, though, once she started convulsing, guffaws forcefully expelled through her mouth. It was like she had dry heaves of laughter, like she’d been binge laughing and had laughed up all the chunks of laughter. I was worried her stomach lining would be coming next.

I walked to her, bent over, and said, “If you convulsed like that while I was fucking you, I probably wouldn’t last a minute. Seriously, it’s hot.” Gloria fell to her knees. Her face was red. I looked up and other people were glaring, clearly upset at the noise. A librarian came and asked us to leave. She was mean about it, but I figured she realized how close to having sex we were. I understood her concern. There were kids present and I didn’t think it would be right to have doggy-style convulsive sex in front of them.

I helped Gloria to her feet and led her out of the library. I stopped on the way and asked if she wanted me to go back to get the book about library sex with strangers and she started laughing all over again. I quickly escorted her from the building.

I took her to a bench outside and sat her down. I sat next to her. She was sighing laughter now. I had an impulse to pull out my cock and masturbate, but fortunately I’d huffed turpentine that morning. Instead, I said to Gloria, “The way you laugh is incredibly arousing. You already had me hooked so you really didn’t need to put on that display for my benefit.”

Gloria looked at me with tears rolling down her cheeks, snot bubbling out of her nostrils, and a mixture of mucous and drool covering her lips and chin. Her face was pink, a shade or two less intense than the lobster red she’d been displaying inside the library. I wondered if these were primal signs of a woman’s heat.

Gloria tried to become more serious. She said, “You have to stop. Please, I am begging you not to say anything about sex any more. You’re killing me!”

Had I given her multiple orgasms just by talking about sex? Was she at the point where another laughing orgasm could kill her? I decided to back off and let her recover. I hadn’t realized my words could make a woman cum like that. I was a little worried, though, that she’d just want me to talk fuck her again later. What about my cock? How was I going to cum if she just kept having orgasms whenever I spoke?

Aha! I have to stop talking! She’ll undoubtedly beg for my dick once she realizes I won’t please her sexually with my words.

Gloria asked me a question. “Why are you so obsessed with sex?”

I thought about the question. It seemed obvious to me and I was about to answer, but then I remembered I didn’t want to give her another talking orgasm. I began to see her game. She’d ask questions, tricking me into saying things, and then she’d start cumming again. Some women scream or moan when they come, but Gloria laughs. Interesting.

“Well?”

I blurted out, “Because it feels so damn good.” Fuck! Damn, she was good at this. Combined with my impulse control issues I was no match for her. I was beginning to feel used. I didn’t mind it, but I was trying to stop. I couldn’t even say, “No, I don’t want to answer any more questions,” because that, too, might get her off. When will women realize that silence means no?

I felt the shift in the dynamic. Gloria now had the upper hand. I wasn’t used to being so helpless. I felt aroused, but in a way I never had in my life. I felt like she was mind-fucking me. It was hot! Shit, what was I going to do?

“Well, that makes sense. The problem is you go about it all wrong. You can’t seriously believe your unbearable approach works with women. It doesn’t, does it?”

Fuck, another question. Stay strong, don’t give in, keep your mouth closed. I could feel my lips dying to part, words forming in my throat, and my tongue ready flutter. Fuck, I can’t stop myself! “Oh, it works. I mean, look at you. You’ve been having laughing orgasms on and off for fifteen minutes or so. You had one laughing orgasm that lasted almost ten minutes. Snot was flying out of your nose and you started convulsing. Believe me, it was hot. Honestly, I’d never word-fucked anyone who came like you did.”

Gloria sniggered and said, “Oh, shit, you’re going to make me laugh again. Fuck!” She started laughing full force.

Fuck. I threw up my hands and said, “I was trying not to say anything but you kept peppering me with questions. I’m onto you. You’re trying to get me to say shit so you can start cumming again. But what about me? My words are the equivalent of eating your pussy. I’ve been word-eating your pussy for nearly half an hour, but my cock isn’t getting any play at all. I almost whipped it out earlier to start masturbating while you were laughing. I was getting tired of you having all the fun while I was doing all the work!”

My words, as usual, just made Gloria laugh harder. She lied down on the bench squealing with laughter. Her head was in my lap and I thought to myself, “Well, finally!” I struggled not to say anything and resisted the urge to unzip my fly. No, let her do the work; I’ve been doing all the heavy lifting. Now it’s her turn to please me.

Gloria’s laughter slowed to a stop. Her head was resting in my crotch and she looked up at me. Her eyes were red but she had a look of sweetness in her eyes, maybe even affection. My cock had been half-hard but now I was becoming fully erect. Gloria said, “Dear Lord, I can feel you getting hard against the back of my head.”

Before she could say anything I gave her my tough guy sexy look and voice. “Just go with it, Gloria. You know you want it.”

She started laughing again. Fuck! I guess once she gets going every word can make her squeal. It’s like once her mind clit gets stimulated the shortest word can send her into a frenzy. I said to her, “If I stop speaking will you be able to stop cumming and give me a blow job?”

Gloria sat up like a shot. She was laughing hard again. She managed to speak, “You … have to … stop … I can’t … take it! Holy fuck,” she settled down a little, “I take back what I said earlier about you being an idiot. You’re a fucking genius!”

Finally! I wondered what it was going to take for her to recognize my sexual prowess. As I was thinking, though, I heard her thoughts.

“He’s fucking Andy Kaufman, just over-the-top moronic brilliance. He never veers from the persona. Unbelievable. Huh, I actually want to fuck him now.”

I sighed with satisfaction. I guess if you linguistically pleasure a woman long enough to give her multiple orgasms she’ll finally be ready to get physical. Word play is foreplay.