Mind Writing Pt. 02: Hannah

It all felt very… wrong. Split down the middle.

These two parts of me wanted very different things. The use of my powers had been, for the longest time, simply a way for me to – under the radar – shift things in my favour. After what I had done with – to – Ali… I couldn’t pretend that was the case anymore.

I couldn’t pretend the urge hadn’t existed before, of course. The… pressure of hormonal influence was always present in some way or another. But, the difference between being a horny teenager and swallowing the urge to make a girl flash you – which was the sort of thing I could easily cast aside as ‘replaceable by porn so you don’t have to assault people’, and being with Ali – where there was, in one way or another, a reciprocated attraction… it was different.

Wasn’t it?

There’s no way to admit that I used my abilities on her, controlled her, in a way that I’d never done before. It was a ground-breaking moment for me. But it wasn’t just me.

Ali was what was new. She was there, excited and eager and horny. Any time before, when an ‘urge’ had presented itself, it was easy to repress, or swallow, because it would have been me imposing an idea on someone. Ali already had the idea – I just brought it to the surface.

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Maybe I was just blaming her. Using her apparent enjoyment of my manipulations to justify what I had done. To make me feel better.

Although, if she had enjoyed it, was it so bad?

The questions haunted me. We stayed together for about four months after that. Our sex life, once started with such an event, quickly blossomed into something quite lovely, though I managed to avoid ‘writing’ her ever again. I would read her, use my gift to see what she liked, and what got her going – turns out she was naturally quite submissive in bed – and I used this to both keep her happy, and slowly allow us to drift.

Guilt was a heavy thing, and even though I could tell myself as much as possible that Ali was eager to take part, a large part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just, fundamentally wrong. That I had done things to her no one else could. As a relationship, it was tainted. It had to end.

By the time our exams came around, and we had all applied for our Uni places and we’re ready to move away, we were all but over. Once the break was official, I got rid of all of her adjustments (cognition wasn’t a problem now that exams were over), and decided to just let her get on with life.

One thing I hadn’t foreseen, however, was that between getting into university and actually going there, I had a summer to kill, in a village where I knew I would only come back to for Christmas after leaving. Plus, after going from 3-4 sex sessions a week to nothing, my libido was a raging hormonal bastard, giving me the urge to stop and stare at every woman in view. I mean, I had had those urges for years now, but now I had passed that line with Ali… it was tempting.

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To do more.

Half of these, because of the size of Glenkiln being as it was, were people I either had known since birth, or recognised as tourists, here for the lakes and fell walking. Not a lot of realistic choices, but just enough eye candy to wind me up. I never did end up acting on my urges of Ms. Rodham, or of monster-cock Dan – half out of my natural timidness, and half out of pre-emptive guilt.

Speaking of tourists, to get by until September I ended up getting a job in the shop that was attached to the boating house. People would come to rent a paddle boat, or buy a ticket on the steamer, and we try and sell them overpriced chicken tikka masala sandwiches, bad teas and offers, and novelty plush squirrels.

It was just about the only place in the village that allowed me to use my gift to squeeze an extra quid out of people on a tip, upping their generosity when I smiled and served them, pausing after I handed them their coffee-flavoured milk water.

Oh, and do you remember the ‘goth slut’ I talked about during my episode with Ali? Well, now she’s the assistant manager, and my direct boss, and without a little bump of ‘happy’ every time she sees me I think she would have fired me by now – she fucking hated me. And with decent reason, I guess; I got a waaay disproportionate amount of tips because of my gift, and she’d complained that ‘everyone seems to love you’. I guess it’s a 21st century goth thing.

Her name was Hannah, and while she might not have been, as I so crudely called her, a slut, she sure knew how to wear herself. She had a tight figure, and she was almost as tall as me, just under six foot. Her hair, naturally, was jet black and her nails painted either blood red or black – never anything else.

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Oh, and the thing that makes my whole ‘resisting temptation’ idea strain at the edges? Her tits. She has the most amazing tits I have ever seen on a girl, at least in real life. She’s a D-cup, at least, but they’re amazingly firm. I’ve seen her a few times after a ‘late night at Matt’s’ (her equally goth boyfriend), where she came in without a bra on. Don’t call me a perv, but between the lack of a bra clip bumping through the awful navy-blue polos we both wear, and her rock-solid nipples poking up whenever the door opens and a rush of cool air blows in, I could tell.

And yet, her boobs always looked as amazing and pert as ever, including today when it was easy to tell she doesn’t have one on. I almost didn’t think they were real, and have had to fight with the gift to try and find out. She was in a relationship, I was lying low until September, best just to keep it all casual.

‘Hey,’ she mumbled as we dropped our bags into our company lockers in the back room. It was about 6:45, and the weather was a bleak grey, so it was most likely going to be a slow day. Plus, it was Monday, and the manager had taken a long weekend. All in all, we were both ready to be bored out of our minds for nine hours before calling it quits.

‘Hey. Good weekend?’

She shrugged. Her disposition, while not really my business, was already getting old – particularly as there were no customers to distract myself with.

‘I’ll do stock,’ she said, slamming her locker shut. Her eyeshadow was burnt grey today, but her eyes looked tired.

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‘Sure,’ I said, knowing there was barely enough to be done to fill half an hour.

I got everything up and running, before opening up to serve some sodden dog-walkers their early coffee. By 7:30 there was a grand total of three tited-looking elderly dog enthusiasts, four sodden pooches, and no Hannah. I was waiting, unable to leave the shop unattended, for either her to come back or for the walkers to get on their way, when the door creaked open and a wam was dragged in by a dripping-wet husky cross I recognised instantly.

‘Shona?!’

Ali’s mum looked up at me, surprised to see me. She hadn’t been by for the past two weeks of my employment here, but with a dog like that she was sure to need to walk him at least twice a day.

‘James!’ she chimed. She wandered up to the till, her smile a sunbeam. ‘Oh my god it’s been so long!’

‘It has! How’s Ali doing?’

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‘Oh, she’s great. She got into Edinburgh, doing English – early language acquisition.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ I smiled. It was also news. I realised I hadn’t been keeping up with her, and felt a pang of guilt. Of course, that paled in comparison to seeing the woman I had first really used my gift on for sexual means, smiling like a bobcat in front of me, her hair slick from rain, making her far more attractive than she had any right to be on a day like today.

‘How about you? I feel like I knew everything about you, and then when you guys split – poof! You were gone. Never to be heard of again.’

I laughed, more just enjoying the conversation than at what she’d said. ‘Yeah, uh, Newcastle. Psychology.’

‘Ooh, so you’re going to be able to ratch through people’s brains then?’

I smiled. ‘Something like that.’

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On a whim, or for old times sake, or for any other reason I wanted to invent, I tuned into her. Why not.

She was fairly simple, enjoyably enough. A mix of nostalgia, relaxation, and general happiness. I remembered she taught at the primary school in the next village, so she would be off work – hence the dog walking resuming.

As I did, however, I also felt a buzz at the back of my head – interference, almost. I nearly turned to see what it was, when Shona spoke again.

‘So, not that anyone can replace my Ali, but any girls on your arm these days?’

I scoffed, but kept a mind’s eye on her ‘sliders’; there was a tick of arousal. 0 to 2. Huh.

‘Not at the moment, no. Free as a bird.’

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‘Well, anyone would be lucky,’ she smirked. I was trying to write it off as normal joke-flirting that middle-aged women liked to do, but I felt her heart flutter. I could feel her arousal tick up to 5, her excitement picking up a hint. It was subtle, maybe even subconscious, but her signs were saying she was into me.

I decided I wasn’t going to manipulate anything – that could get out of hand quickly – but there was no harm in using my gift to steer the conversation a certain way, right?

‘I’m trying to stay open,’ I said, prepping us both a coffee. No one would miss two packets from stock, and I could just play forgiveness if I really needed to, after all.

‘How open?’ she laughed, before getting her dog – Arlo, it’s name was – to sit. ‘Nothing worse than a dry patch,’ she said, no longer looking at me.

I remembered how the thought of me made her cum that night – was she thinking about that too?

Arousal at 15. I think she was.

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‘Not that you would know, I’m sure,’ I said, playing sweet. I moved away to get her some sugars, remembering how she took it. Two sugars, extra milky.

Just like her, I thought, glancing at her wondrous chest. While she maybe didn’t have the youthful firmness that Hannah enjoyed – who, by the way, had been taking ages to do the stockroom – she made up for it in form. Her body was round in all the right places, and tight where it counted. While Ali was a stick figure, her mother was a delicious peach.

‘Pffft, I’ve not even had a date since Ali was born. Not too many men around here looking for a widowed mother, with career options as lofty as Pattering Primary’s headship.’

‘Well, that’s ridiculous,’ I said. Her gratitude bumped then, and I wondered when the last time someone honestly complimented the woman. ‘You’re funny, beautiful, and if I wasn’t you’re daughter’s ex I think I’d be her step dad by now.’

For a moment, I thought I had gone too far, but I felt her adoration and gratitude, as well as her self esteem lift a little. She gave me a look as though to tell me I was being ridiculous, and took her coffee. ‘You’re just lathering me up to get a tip,’ she smiled. A real, genuine smile. She really was beautiful. I could see where Ali got her beauty, and she hadn’t gotten all of it.

‘Nonsense,’ I said again, this time reading for arousal – just out of curiosity. ‘I honestly think it’s madness no one’s snapped you up. Or, at least, relieved you of your dry spell.’

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There. It bumped to 20, as the thoughts of me and sex correlated in her head, mingling into her memory of that night.

‘A date first would be nice,’ she said, trying to get back to levity. She was self conscious again, after so long of being unseen. ‘Ali’s off in Bermuda travelling, so tonight it’s a bad movie, and oven pizza for Shona.’

An invitation, disguised as self-deprecation. I could feel her hope, her daring, her disbelief – anyone not able to see in her head, her heart, might have thrown it off as a lousy attempt to harmlessly flirt, but I felt the truth underneath. Plus, I had an opportunity.

‘Well, my dad’s on a stag do and my mum’s working a double – I was gonna do the same.’ Her hope picked up. ‘I could come over, and you could make that stir fry you made us for Ali’s 17th?’

‘You remember that?’

‘I dream of it!’ I laughed, and she nodded. I could feel her emotions swirling a little – nervous flutters, self consciousness, excitement, and under all of it, a breath of lust pushing the boat down the river.

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I hadn’t done a thing to her emotions – not really. A little reading, giving me the edge on what to say, sure. But what she felt was all her.

‘Alright,’ she nodded. ‘You’re on. Bring something, though, I’m not a cheap date.’ Again, she was trying to make it sound ridiculous by overstating what it was. A date.

Holy shit. I just talked my way into a date with Shona.

Arlo whined at her feet, and she scowled at him. ‘Yes, alright, you big floof.’ She handed me more than she owed in change, giving her a reason to brush hands with me. There was one hundred percent a spark, given away if not by her spark in nerves and arousal, then by the fact that she refused to make eye contact with me.

‘Thank you for the coffee, James,’ she smiled, as Arlo stood, ready to bound out into the rain.

‘I’ll see you tonight!’ I called, feeling one last buzz of nervousness before tuning out.

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With a start, I realised the shop was empty now – all the customers must have up and left while we were talking. I grinned, laughing to myself at what was happening. All I had done was say the right thing, at the right time, and I was asking my exes MILF mother out on a date! It was, I will admit, clearly a low-key affair, but it was off the back of a conversation about her ‘dry spell’, where her arousal and attraction to me was slowly rising.

‘Holy shit,’ I laughed to myself, almost giddy.

The giddiness, of course, came to a screeching halt when I heard Hannah in the back room screaming for her life.

I clambered through the back door, into the storage space, and saw the door to a little cubby closed, but with light coming out from underneath. ‘Hannah?’

‘It’s fine!’ she shouted, not sounding very convinced herself. ‘Just leave it- AHHH!!’

I tuned in, and the first thing I could feel was fear, panicked fear overriding everything. Then, embarrassment – that’s what was stopping her coming out.

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‘What is it?!’ I called through, standing now just outside the storage cubby. There was nothing in there but cleaning supplies, spare toilet roll – stuff that wasn’t stock, basically.

The fear in her head spiked again, and I could feel her wanting to run, flee from whatever was in there. So, in what I thought was a charitable move, I dropped her embarrassment to almost zero. There. All good.

Hannah burst from the room, and as my eyes took in what they saw, my brain registered what was behind the fear and embarrassment.

She was panting, phone-in hand, with her jeans around her ankles. Her underwear – deep red silky lingerie that looked like they wouldn’t cover a thing – were below her knees, and her polo had been unbuttoned as low as it goes, displaying her plunging cleavage as she threw herself from the cupboard.

She tripped on her clothes, and landed face down, giving me what can only be described as God’s perspective of her. Here Hannah was, on the floor, panting, her ass up with her jeans and underwear pulled down, her pussy lips wet and slick. As she lay there, I heard her make a strange noise – something between a wail and a whimper, as something popped out of her.

A small, purple vibrator slid from her labia, landing on the cold tiles and buzzing against the floor.

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Hannah shuddered, then looked up to me with a look that seemed like she’d only just remembered I was there.

After a moment of clear gawking on her half-baked form, I stuttered to life. ‘Hannah, I-‘

‘James, oh shit,’ she said, rolling to sit on her nude bottom. She made no attempts to hide herself, though that was probably because she was currently virtually incapable of feeling embarrassed. ‘Is it on me?!’ she shrieked, before jumping up. She spun, kicking her jeans off one foot, which gave her enough stability to start bouncing frantically, slapping at her arms and shoulders.

Beneath her embarrassment had been serious arousal, dimmed obviously by the panic and fear that she was going through, but still there. From the vibe and her phone in hand, I guessed she was having a bit of on-the-clock fun.

‘Is what on you?’ I asked, slowly pulling her panic down, letting her settle. To her, it would hopefully feel just like she was calming naturally.

‘The massive fucking spider!’ she shrieked, hopping over a box away from the storage cubby. As she said it, I did see the bugger – a fat brown thing that must have climbed on her during her fun.

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Calmly, I picked up an empty bucket, and got Hannah to pass me a big piece of cardboard. Box over spider, cardboard under box, and it was contained.

I picked the thing up, noting that Hannah was just watching me now, and put it down outside. I lifted the box and titled the cardboard, watching the arachnid trundle off into the grass.

I came back in to see a still half-naked Hannah, a relieved smile on her face, who shivered from the gust from outdoors.

Tuning in, I realised that, having turned down her embarrassment and her fear/panic, the prevailing state her brain was left with was arousal. Arousal that, without shame or fear, had her standing in the back office with someone who had, in her eyes, just saved her.

I felt her make the decision, and while I hadn’t meant to manipulate her mind for this outcome, it was hard to deny her as she pulled her polo top off over her head, leaving her wearing nothing but her socks and a black choker necklace.

She stepped right up to me, pulled me in by the collar, and kissed my shocked dumbass face with her gothic black lips, her tongue diving in as her body pressed into mine. Her tongue piercing bumped against my lips, and she smiled around me as she delved deeper.

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I was hard in an instant, and, after a courtesy closing of the door between us and the café so no one would see in, she let my hands explore her pale body.

She hissed as I held her, my hands cold against her skin, but she felt warm to the touch. And touch I did.

At first, I held her back as we kissed, storming down to grab her butt, making her squeak. I remembered the vibrator, and a cursory exploration of my fingers found she was still soaking wet. Hannah moaned into me as I reached around her form to finger her, her hands grabbing my polo and lifting it off.

I had to release her sex to get the top over, but as she pressed those goddess tits against my chest I almost died. In fact, part of me maybe had. Died and gone to heaven, and that heaven was Hannah’s D-cup cleavage.

‘This is so good,’ she moaned into my ear as her hand found my crotch. She rubbed my rock-hard bulge through my jeans, enjoyment on her lips as she kissed my neck.

I was stunned, to be honest. Thrilled, obviously, but stunned. This girl had clearly been fucking herself in the back, and take away a little shame and whatever else, she was a total nympho! We had barely said two words to each other since we started working together, and now she was sliding down me, her tongue at my navel as her hands undid my belt.

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Maybe people need less of a push than I thought.

Hannah pulled me from my jeans, and immediately took me in her mouth. She was eager, and clearly experienced – her tongue piercing sending electricity up the head as her hands went to my balls and the base of my cock.

‘Fuuuuck, Hannah that’s good,’ I moaned, trying to keep it as a whisper in case any customer had wandered in, despite there being no staff in.

Updated: October 13, 2020 — 4:35 pm

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