The Story of My Telepathic Life

The Story of My Telepathic Life

by Gary LM Martin

We were making love.

We were

always

making love.

I was riding on top of Julian's shaft. I smiled down at him with pure adoration in my eyes. I didn't have to ask how he felt, I

knew

it. Every time I grinded my hips in a circle I could feel the sexual tension and pleasure in his shaft, I could feel the intense spikes in his sexual arousal; Julian's excitement enticed me, it infected me and brought me along for the ride, making me climax even as his shaft technically didn't stir any sensations directly inside me. That didn't matter; all that mattered was bringing my man the sexual pleasure we both loved.

It was a curious thing, lovemaking. Even the word was curious.

Making love

. I had been with several men, but I had certainly never

made love

with them. All we did was have sex; or at least, they had sex with me. I certainly didn't get anything out of it.

But Julian was my lover and we did in fact make love. As a telepath, I felt that I had discovered something unique about the act of love making that no one else on the planet knew.

Making love was an act of selfishness and greed.

When two people made love who weren't telepaths, it was easy to believe how giving the act of love was. The man groaned "I love you" and the woman, in the height of arousal, also did the same. It was easy to think that that's what the sex act was about, expressing affection for the other.

But that's not really true.

I looked deeply into Julian's mind as he worked his way up Orgasm Hill, as he moved painfully, stroke by stroke, trying to get his release. Julian wasn't thinking of how much he loved or adored me while he was trying to obtain his precious orgasm; all he was thinking about was getting his own sexual release. He was using my body to do something for himself, not me. Even when he said during lovemaking, "I love you, Shelly!" as he frequently did, he said it not so much to express love to me, but to drive himself into higher and higher states of arousal, so he could obtain his much desired orgasm.

It may look like I'm painting a nefarious picture of Julian, but I'm not. I realized that all people are wired that way, men and women. Yes, even as I worked my way up the orgasm ladder during sex, I wasn't really thinking about Julian's pleasure. I too was thinking of using his body to satisfy my own needs. I was thinking of his handsome hairy chest, his gorgeous eyes, his loving hand, feeling him stroke me, desperate to take whatever was offering, not because I loved him, but because I needed him to get my own release.

And so I realized the sex act was an overwhelmingly selfish act, with two people using each other for their own interests. The way our biology was constructed, we were using each other in a way which simulated actual expressions of love because that's how we were designed.

And even though the act of sex was, on the most basic level, about satisfying our own needs, not those of our partners, I loved Julian and he loved me. Even as he used me to satisfy his own needs, he always made quite sure to satisfy my own. He used his hand or his domineering nature or his sharing of his own orgasm to stimulate my own climax, and I was equally concerned about him getting his own.

I think, then, that's what true love is. Using someone else to get your physical needs met, but caring enough to also see to their own. And of course, the time spent outside of bed counts just as much as the time spent in bed. Walking, talking, flirting, doing things together... these things also satisfy other, psychological needs, but they are also valid expressions of love.

I had this epiphany while riding on Julian's penis.

"Very impressive. Very impressive indeed," said Julian. "Perhaps if you ride long enough, you could compose a prize winning sonnet."

I laughed and kissed him and he kissed me back.

"All right, Shelly. It's time to start climbing the orgasm tree, as you call it."

I wiped perspiration off my brow. "I thought we

were

climbing the orgasm tree!" I had just been closing in my own orgasm and was intensely frustrated.

"Climb faster," he grinned.

I was on top, and so I grinded my hips in an effort to stimulate the head of Julian's penis, deep inside me.

As I rode his shaft, Julian was manipulating my clit, helping me climb my own orgasm tree, so to speak. I felt my orgasm so close, so close now!

I love you so much, he thought, fixing me with a steely grin.

I love you too!

I was almost there! I was panting rapidly now. Just.... a little... more....

And then abruptly, Julian pulled his hand away.

"Do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you love me more than Tom?"

Tom, again. What an odd question.

Why, do you have any difficulty answering it?

What does Tom matter? You've never met him. I haven't seen him since before he got married. Tom is off the radar, completely.

Then why do you have such difficulty answering the question?

I felt the head of Julian's penis moving insistently inside me.

"All right," I said. "I love you more than Tom. Satisfied?"

No. Convince me.

I frowned. How?

You have to believe it.

I looked at Julian, the love of my life, and wondered why we were engaged in such petty games.

Julian had been keeping me skating at the edge of orgasm. I liked to come at the same time as he did, and he knew it. But I had been skating at the edge for some time, and needed to finish.

"Julian!"

His fingers returned, but a light, glancing touch, only on my clitoral hood, not enough to make me come. His message was obvious.

Convince me.

Julian didn't want actions. He didn't want words. He wanted

thoughts

. He needed me to believe, and until he believed that I believed, he would deny me my much needed orgasm.

My body was aching to come. I had been stimulated for far too long, which I saw now was always intention. He was using my biology as leverage, just as the riders of

Parasites Love Earth

had.

"Julian, I need to come!" My clit felt like it was going to explode.

Convince me.

I started him straight in the eyes as I rode up and down on his shaft.

I love you.

His fingers continued their lightest of light touch.

I love you!

No change.

I wet my lips.

I love you more than Tom!

Sweat trickled down my body as I moved up and down his shaft.

You're smarter than him! You're more successful than him! You're handsomer than he is! You're more manly than he is!

That registered with him. His fingers started to move more intensely on my clit.

And my penis... is it bigger than his?

Much bigger! You're the sexiest man I've ever fucked!

Julian's body stiffened, and his eyes grew wide, and he cried out, "Get ready, because this one's for Tom!" Before I could react to that, I felt a volcano erupt inside of me.

Julian's penis shuddered and burst forth, splattering my cervix with gobs and gobs of sperm. As he released inside of me, I realized I had given him what he needed

.

And as I gave him what he needed, he gave me what

I

needed. I cried out as I climaxed around his hard shaft, so lovingly impaled by the increasingly complex man who I loved so much.

**********

This one's for Tom.

As I did idle window shopping the next day, relishing the very used feeling inside my cunt, I was struck by those words. Julian was an intensely competitive man. He was a high powered corporate lawyer, so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. But for him to celebrate his orgasm by slamming Tom left a sour taste in my mouth. Julian didn't even know who Tom was. The only reason he cared about Tom was because he knew I did.

I remembered telling him he was the sexiest man I had ever slept with.

And then I remembered, technically speaking, that I had never completed the sex act with Tom.

**********

And then came the day I met Angelika. I didn't realize this was the beginning of the end of my relationship with Julian, but in hindsight, of course, it was perfectly obvious. Hindsight is always 20/20.

It all started innocently enough when Julian thought I would look stunning if I started wearing makeup. As a rule I wore little or nothing, except some demure lipstick when I started seeing Julian. So I put him off by telling him I didn't know how.

Julian gave me one of his aggressive looks. "You're a woman who doesn't know how to put on makeup?"

"Um hm," I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. It felt so good.

"Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

And so he introduced me to Angelika.

Angelika was a redhead, a bright redhead, with a cute bob and bangs over her forehead. She was in her late 20's, I think, but looked like a teenager because of her haircut. She had large breasts but I could see hers were more shapely, more melon like, than my long eggplants. She wore a low cut blouse which showed off her assets, and a short pink miniskirt which showed off her other assets, her firm legs. She looked like a dancer.

But Julian introduced her as a makeup artist, one who "owed him a favor".

When I met her one evening in Julian's apartment, she gave me a sly smile and said, "It's so nice to meet you, Shelly. Julian can't stop talking about you."

I looked at Julian.

Who is this woman, and how does she know so much about us?

She's just a friend. Relax, Shell. I mean Shelly.

I gave him a dirty look.

Angelika took my hand. "You have such a beautiful face."

"I do?"

"Yes." She seemed sincere. "Come. I just

know

we're going to have a wonderful time together."

Julian's penis tingled ever so slightly as she said that.

*********

I sat looking uncertainly into a holomirror. The first thing Angelika had me do was to remove my lipstick. "No offense, dear, but I could barely see it." She applied another color, a much brighter shade of red. Cunt red.

I frowned. "I'm not sure about this...."

"But you look so beautiful," she said in my ear. I felt her reassuring hands on my shoulders. "Just wait until we're done, and then you can decide. Fair?"

I nodded.

As Angelika worked, I sensed her attraction to Julian. She was focused on me, rightly so, but as she worked I picked up more and more thoughts about Julian. At first they were thoughts of kissing him, of pressing her thick lips against his. Then it became more than that. They were having sex, in bed, and Angelika was riding his shaft up and down precisely the same way I had been the day before. I was shocked by her flagrant attraction to him.

Jealous?

Why should I be? You invite a gorgeous woman into your home who seems to know you well, and is having a non-stop steady stream of thoughts of fucking you in bed.

So... am I only permitted to have women friends who aren't attracted to me? Tell me, how many men have you talked to in the past week who have thought about fucking you? Five? Ten? More?

You have a point.

But as Angelika continued to work on me, and have increasingly erotic thoughts about fucking Julian, I sensed a new attraction, coming this time

from

Julian. It wasn't attraction to Angelika he was feeling, not quite. His penis was getting hard in his pants as he fantasized about seeing me and Angelika hugging and kissing, without a stitch of clothing on, grinding our breasts together as Angelika inserted her tongue inside my mouth.

I began to wonder if Julian had had an ulterior motive in inviting his "makeup expert" to give me a makeover.

There's nothing wrong with having a harmless fantasy, is there?

Of course not. But there's only room for one woman in your life, Julian Darden. And that's me.

The intensity of my love only stimulated his shaft to become even stiffer.

**********

Angelika put red rouge on my cheeks, which even I had to admit wasn't so bad. I was always a little on the pale side. But then she wanted to put silver eye shadow on, and there I drew the line.

"No. It will make me look like a whore."

"No it won't. It will make you look sexual. There's a difference," said Angelika. She was so beautiful, and such a nice girl to boot. I think we could have become friends if she hadn't had sexual thoughts for my man.

"She's right," said Julian. "Let her try it, Shelly."

"Julian-"

"Just let her try." I felt his hand on my shoulder.

And so Angelika put silver eye shadow on. When she was done I looked like a different person.

Older. More mature. And yes, more sensual.

More sexual, you mean.

Julian took me in his arms and kissed me. I felt embarrassed kissing in front of Angelika, whose mind seemed to

purr

as she watched.

"Thank you, Angelika," I said demurely.

"We're not quite done," said Julian.

"We're not?"

Angelika smiled wickedly as she held up a large rubber rod.

********

I had tried wearing a chikdik once in high school and didn't like it. Or, to be more precisely, Tom didn't like it, and so I took it off and never wore it again.

But now I was wearing one again.

I stood in a miniskirt that Julian had bought me. The indentation of the chikdik stuck out like an erection.

"Beautiful," said Angelika.

"Gorgeous," said Julian.

"I don't know...."

"But I do. Try the pants now."

Reluctantly I changed into the skinny white pants that Julian had also bought me which showed off every curve of my ass. I struggled to fit the chikdik into it. It really wasn't made for it. When I was done it looked like I had a giant vertical erection sandwiched in my groin. It looked awful.

"Amazing!" said Julian.

"No it's not!" I said.

"Yes, it is," said Angelika, her eyes sparkling.

I looked down and frowned. "How can I possibly look sexy having a dick?"

"It's a chikdik, Shelly. Don't be a prude. All the supermodels wear them."

"I'm not a supermodel."

"You are to me," said Julian. He took me in his arms, and one kissed silenced everything.

Angelika packed up her things and prepared to go. Julian admired her ass as she bent over.

Hey!

It's just idle curiosity.

Make sure it doesn't get any more than that.

But as Angelika turned to go, Julian took her in his arms. "Thank you for helping out my friend," he said softly.

"For you, Julian, any time," said Angelika.

He looked into her eyes, and then he kissed her on the lips.

He kissed her on the lips!

Right in front of me!

And then she was gone.

*********

I had lunch with my sister Audrey three days later. Audrey was a junior at the family alma mater, University of Black Lives Matter, getting an associate's degree in Girl Math. She was a creative thinker and smart on her feet and getting good grades. She hoped to get a job with the Old Girl's Network within the World Government after graduation while keeping open the possibility of getting a graduate degree in Vaginology like Mom.

As I predicted, my gorgeous kid sister turned out to be the greatest beauty of our family. Her bright red hair and high cheekbones and beautiful titties (no eggplants for sweet Audrey, no sirre! Hers were grapefruits which attracted the boys like flies!) charmed every man she came across. As she got older, I was the first one she confided in about her sex life, which I found immensely flattering, and we shared things on the same level as I did with Claire. Somehow Audrey and Claire had never quite gelled in the same way that Claire and I eventually did, perhaps because of the age difference.

And so once Audrey told me about her latest exploits ("His name is Eduardo, and he does

incredible

things with his mouth which would make even you blush, Shell"), we turned to me. I told her a

slightly edited

version of my exploits with Julian. Audrey smiled as she heard about every push in the bush with glee.

But then she gave me an odd look. "You've changed, Sister."

"In what way?"

"Well... you seem more at ease now than you used to be about sex," said Audrey. "But it was your appearance I was referring to."

"My appearance?"

"Your makeup. It makes you look... different," said Audrey.

Like a slut.

The exact words Audrey were thinking were "like a whore".

I blinked away the mental slap. "Julian likes me this way."

"What do you think?" Audrey asked.

I held up my Pad and set it to mirror, and stared at myself. It's true, I looked very different from how I used to. I really didn't recognize that face now. But it was still me.

"It's a new look. I'm... I'm trying it out," I said.

Audrey nodded. She was clearly unhappy.

I liked the old you, Shell. And what's with that shirt with the plunging neckline? I can see nearly all your titties. If you're made up like a whore, do you also have to dress like one as well?

I took a deep breath as I felt slapped again. Audrey, of course, had no idea how offensive she was being.

"What... what do you think of my outfit?" I asked, standing up. I knew what she

thought

; now I was more interested in what she would

say

.

"It's, ah... a new look," said Audrey, and I suddenly loved my kid sister again. She was

trying

to be tactful. She was

trying

not to offend me. It wasn't her fault I could read her mind.

Her eyes grew wide as she glanced down and saw my chikdik, which stuck out of my pants at a rigid 45 degree angle. I had had my pants altered to allow for more freedom of room so it wasn't sandwiched flat right against my groin.

"Shelly... I don't want to offend you," she said, looking pained.

"It's all right. Say what you think." Suddenly I felt a stab of self doubt.

"I... I love you however you are," said Audrey. "But this isn't you. You're a conservative dresser. That's what I always envied about you."

"Envied?

"You...." She struggled to put it into words. "You were always an attractive girl because you looked so natural, so... so pure. I was jealous of that for a long time, you know."

Audrey was jealous of me?

"Why?"

"Because you managed to look sexual... without looking aggressively sexual, you know what I mean? You looked like you had it, without giving it away."

I looked like I had it without giving it away.

When we finished eating I gave Audrey a sincere hug. It was always nice to get an unedited view from my darling kid sister, even if it hurt.

**********

If the first few weeks of my relationship with Julian was characterized by wild, passionate hot monkey sex several times a week, the second and third month was characterized by more of an equilibrium. I supposed it is natural that at least some of the initial excitement, some of the "newness" would fade. Of course, I was still powerfully attracted to Julian and he to me.

And so we settled into routine of getting together two times a week for dinner and sex. I would have preferred to see him more but he was working crazy hours at his law firm. Sometimes we got to spend a weekend day together and I always cherished those times.

But typically I would come to his place early for dinner. I would be the one who would cook for him, and have dinner ready when he got home from work. I would usually be wearing a sexy see-through nightie, one of several he had bought me. I would greet him at the door, kiss and hug him, and chat with him about his day throughout dinner while he ate his food with his mouth and me with his eyes. He had such piercing blue eyes!

It was all so charmingly domestic. At least, until after dinner, when he pounded my pussy every way he could. Julian seemed to have an inexhaustible mental encyclopedia of sex positions and could always think of some new and creative way to do it. I never considered him completely satisfied until we had sex at least twice... and sometimes three times... (and occasionally even four!). One of Julian's favorite ways of taking me was when I was on my hands and knees in front of a holomirror, plowing into me from behind. He loved the feeling of dominance it gave him. He loved watching my breasts bounce underneath me as he plowed into me. He loved filling me with his seed.