A Meeting of Minds

I'm sitting in my car, nursing a super-size diet soda and eating carrot sticks when I see her walk out of the main entrance of the mall. She's in the dappled shadows of the fancy lattice portico for the first thirty feet or so, delaying my efforts to evaluate her suitability. As last she breaks out into the late morning sunlight of this cloudless July Saturday. Decades of serious girl watching allow me to size her up quickly through the heavily tinted windows of my nondescript sedan. She's the best candidate I've seen in the last hour.

I like the way she moves as she steps down off the curb and heads out into the vast expanse of the crowded parking lot. Her walk is brisk and efficient, but still sexy. She's a looker too, with a pretty face, long blonde hair and large, but shapely breasts under her Ricky Martin t-shirt. Her tight, low cut jeans reveal that she's a little fuller in the hips than I prefer, but then again, my idea of the

perfect

woman is kind of on the slim side. I guess her age at about twenty, which would be on the young side for my tastes, but within the acceptable range. A quick peek through my binoculars reveals a lack of any hardware on her left hand. That cinches the deal; I'm going to make her mine.

I'm rolling by the time she starts walking down the next isle over. Thankfully, she must not have gotten one of the good spots when she arrived. She's still outward bound as I catch up to her. I hit the express-down button on my window and turn on the Charm as I cruise up.

"Would you like a lift to your car?" I ask. This is the kind of thing that would normally put a woman on her guard in a big way, but her face lights up in an excited smile. I'm amazed for maybe the millionth time at my sudden transition from awkward social geek to confident, commanding alpha-male.

"Sure. That'd be great!"

When

I

ask that question, they

always

say yes.

She swings around to the passenger side and slides in. She makes no protest when I drive right past her car and out of the parking lot.

"Hi, I'm Jim," I tell her. I'm always 'Jim' with my women.

"Hi Jim," she beams. "I'm Melinda." She looks around at the interior of my five-year-old Taurus, a well-worn rental return unit that I use strictly for dating. My Benz is home in the garage.

"Wow, this is a nice car, Jim," she says. I ease up on the Charm a bit – the positive feelings about my personal appearance that I'm infusing into her mind must be spilling over onto my ride.

"Thanks."

I engage her in conversation, quickly ascertaining that she's eighteen years old. Not quite half my age. At least she's legal. I insist on that.

Melinda tells me that she's a student at the local community college and still lives at home. She had shopping for a new pair of shoes for a party tonight. She gleefully shows me her purchase; a pair of blood red four-inch spikes heels. I compliment her fashion sense.

"Are you going with anyone special?"

"Nah, I'm just going to meet up with some friends," she says. "We'll probably go bar hopping later."

As we talk further, I find out that Melinda's boyfriend dumped her a couple of weeks ago when he found out that she was sleeping with his best friend. Naughty girl! The best friend's dropped her too and she's not dating anyone at the moment. This is rare for her. She definitely gets around, but for my purposes, this is a good thing.

How do I find all of this out so easily? Well let's just say that if the CIA ever finds out about the peculiar talents I possess, I'll spend the rest of my life in a small, secret room somewhere in suburban Virginia, talking the truth out of unsuspecting evildoers. Saddam would have nothing to worry about, though – my talent only works on women.

"Jim," Melinda says, "I just have to tell you. You are the hottest looking man I've met in my entire life. I swear to God, you look just like Tom Cruise when he was young, only a lot cuter."

You'd think that someone as butt-ugly as I actually am would be surprised by such a compliment, but I hear that kind of thing on a regular basis. The best part is that she believes every word of it. That's

exactly

how she's seeing me at the moment.

"Oh, come on now, Melinda. There's only one truly gorgeous person sitting in this car, and it's not me," I tell her. Even with the Charm turned on, it's always a good idea to praise them. She blushes and lowers her eyes. I can immediately tell that she

lives

for compliments from the opposite sex. Melinda might not be exactly my type, but she could easily make it into one of those "Girls of Blah-Blah University" pictorials in some men's magazine. She's a knockout. I'm sure she gets

lots

of compliments.

Melinda has the whole day off to do with as she pleases. Good. I'd have had to take her right back to her car if I'd found out that she'd be missed during the next few hours. Melinda meets all of my qualifications. It's time to get this show on the road.

"Would you like to spend some time with me?" I ask her. Not that she actually has a choice, but I like to ask. She knows exactly what I'm talking about and she's been waiting desperately for me to ask since the moment she first laid eyes on me. She gives me a big smile like she's just won the lotto.

"Let's do it," she says.

After a few more minutes of casual conversation, we arrive at the motel. It's one of those large chain places, clean and anonymous. This particular one is my favorite because their rooms are equipped perfectly for my purposes. I always have a room ready around back on the first floor. The less chance there is of anyone seeing us together, the better.

Melinda giggles delightfully. "I've never done a motel run like this during the middle of the day. I don't know what's come over me, but I'm sure this is going to be a lot of fun!"

Oh yes, it

is

going to be a lot of fun, most especially for her.

I unlock the door to room 143 and lead her inside. I took care of all of my preparation work before heading to the mall and I'm ready to entertain her. It's a pretty standard sort of room with wallpaper in an aspen grove motif and thick, but cheap carpeting. The desk and easy chair are basic but serviceable and the bathroom is reasonably clean. I've already stripped the single queen-sized bed down to the fitted sheet. You don't even want to

know

what's lurking in a typical motel room bedspread.

She doesn't even notice as I hit the button on my camcorder's remote.

As soon as the door closes, Melinda eagerly takes me in her arms and begins to kiss me. She only has to tip her head up a little; she's just a few inches short of my five feet eleven. She's not a bad kisser, but as I kiss her back, I teach her a few things that I've picked up along the way. In a matter of a few minutes, she goes from adequate to spectacular. The next man she kisses is in for a real treat!

At last, I silently guide her to the next step. As per my usual routine, I have her go first.

"Mmm. I think we're wearing way too many clothes," she murmurs, languidly moving away from me to correct this situation. "Me first, I think." She begins to disrobe in a cute little striptease as I sit down on the bed to watch the show.

It takes less input from me than I would have expected to get her to do it just how I like it. She's naturally graceful and has done some informal erotic dancing for various boyfriends, I wordlessly discover.

Her flats come off her feet first; she's not wearing socks. I debate with myself: should it be top or bottom first? Hmm. Bottom wins this time. Melinda gracefully twists and gyrates to unheard music as she slowly unzips her jeans.

"Wow, Melinda, you are absolutely amazing!" I tell her. She blushes and redoubles her efforts.

As the top of her jeans clear her hips, I see that she's wearing white cotton panties, low cut to accommodate her jeans, but nothing special. The jeans fall to her ankles and she kicks them into the corner. Ricky Martin is next, slowly working his way up her generous breasts then over her head and into the corner with her jeans. Melinda's wearing a very utilitarian bra, something I find common among large breasted women like her. Hey, it looks comfortable and it's not like she was

planning

on this little adventure!

Watching her dance in just her undergarments, I judge that she could stand to lose ten to fifteen pounds. I'll see to that later.

Melinda reaches behind her and undoes the industrial strength hooks of her bra. Her breasts fall free. They're starting to sag just a little, but I'm sure that her impending weight loss will help the situation some. Being eighteen years old, they're still very nice, though. I'm going to enjoy playing with them later.

At last, Melinda gives me a grin and hooks her thumbs under the elastic of her panties. She's really into this now. As she teasingly lowers them, I can at last confirm that, remarkably, her hair color is natural. She also has a dragon tattoo under her panty line, flying out of her neat blonde forest. I'm not usually into tattoos, but this one is kind of cute. It's a dead ringer for Elliot, the goofy animated star of that old Disney movie, Pete's Dragon. I like a girl with a good sense of humor.

Her panties land in my lap (I'm keeping them for my collection, thank you very much) and she continues dancing for a couple of minutes until I'm sufficiently aroused for the next step. I give her the mental high sign. She takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.

"Now it's your turn, Handsome," she giggles.

She starts with my shoes and socks, placing them neatly at the base of the easy chair. I'm kind of particular about that. My shirt is soon draped smoothly over the seat back, covered by the top sheet from the bed. (Again, you don't want to know...) My Dockers quickly follow my shirt. I slip my Rolex onto the nightstand. I can feel the heat between our naked bodies. Melinda uses her newfound skills to kiss my mouth for all she's worth, then starts kissing my neck and nibbling at my earlobes. I've had women do this so many times that I can put my instructions on autopilot and just enjoy her ministrations.

"My God, Jim. You've got a fantastic body," she says with no prompting from me. I don't have to use my Charm to make her think so. I've always kept myself in top athletic shape. Without a wife or kids, I have plenty of time for it. While Mother Nature was cruel to me above the neck, she tried to make up for it below. If there were a need for male models with bags over their heads, I'd be a shoe-in.

As Melinda's lips travel down my chest, stopping to lick and tease my nipples, I turn my head to watch us in the full-length mirror on the wall behind the camcorder's tripod. I don't touch her at this point, though; there'll be plenty of time for that in a few minutes.

Melinda lips finally reach the top of my boxers, and she slowly slides them down around my ankles. I step out of them as her lips begin work on my very ready eight inches. I note that she's already pretty good at this – her boyfriend must have been a fool for not taking her back. I unobtrusively give her the mental control necessary to take me way down her throat and she gets even better at it. Soon she's doing it exactly the way I like it; fast, hard and clear to the base.

I'm lightly tickling the arousal center of her brain, so what she's doing to me is massively turning her on. I don't let her get near the level of an orgasm yet, though. This part is all about me.

Melinda's breasts are bouncing and her long hair is flying everywhere. She's getting after it with a vengeance. Man, this feels good! I hold off as long as I can, but after a few minutes of this kind of extreme action, I can feel her drag me past the point of inevitability. Melinda usually prefers to spit, but a gentle suggestion from me has her eagerly anticipating the chance to swallow every precious drop. The feeling of release is astounding as I pump my issue down her throat. God, I never get tired of this!

She swallows it down with gusto, and then cleans me off like an expert. I lift her to her feet and wrap her wonderful nude body in my arms. No kissing though. I can make

her

love the way I taste, but my talent only works one way. We hold each other tight as I recover.

"Mmm, that was great," Melinda murmurs in my ear. "I think I enjoyed that even more than you did. I didn't know that giving a blowjob could be so much fun!" The best part about it for me is knowing that she thinks the whole thing was

her

idea.

"I enjoyed it more than you'll ever know, Melinda. I've never had a girl do anything that fantastic to me before. It was incredible!" I enthuse. Okay, so I lied. She was well above average, but I've actually had better.

"Here, let me show you how beautiful you are," I say at last, turning her to face the mirror. I press myself up behind her, gently running my hands up and down the front of her shapely body, exploring every plane and curve. Holding girls this way is actually my favorite part of these encounters. I'm getting to watch myself running my hands all over the gorgeous body of a woman who wouldn't normally be caught dead with a man who looks like me. The look on her face makes it even better. Melinda thinks she's being held in the arms of the most desirable man she's ever met. Boy, does her mind ever deceive her!

Exactly how ugly am I? Where do I start? My head and face are somewhat misshapen and amazingly asymmetrical, I have a huge birthmark across my cheek and around my right eye that laser treatments have only partially fixed. My eyes are set way too close together on each side of my hooked nose and I'm in the advanced stages of male pattern baldness. Even with the excellent conditioning and diet that I subject my body to; I've got a flabby double chin.

On several occasion during the previous twenty-five years, I'd overheard women refer to me as "rat faced". I'd have to admit that "rat faced" is actually somewhat charitable. If I were to turn off the Charm right at this moment, Melinda would probably run from the room screaming, clothes forgotten in her haste.

At my prompting, Melinda lifts one foot up onto the bed to give me better access. I begin to gently explore her with my fingertips, on the outside first and then inside. She's very wet – they always are for me. Two fingers fit easily and I slide them in deeply, again and again. I note that Melinda is gasping with pleasure. I move my ring finger join it's two larger brothers and find that she's quite tight this way. Good, she'll be a nice fit for me.

"Oh God, Jim! That feels

so

good! You make me feel so sexy!"

"That's because you

are

sexy, Melinda," I say gallantly.

I can indeed tell that she's enjoying this. I'm willing her right to the edge of an orgasm, but not quite over the edge just yet. As she reaches this level of arousal, I can feel her surprise at the intensity of the sensation. I realize she's one of those unfortunate girls who are strictly non-orgasmic. Despite the dozens of guys she's been with, she's

never

had an orgasm. She's been good at faking it, though, borrowing heavily from the infamous Meg Ryan restaurant scene. While the guys probably appreciated that, it's left her less than satisfied.

That's going to change today. She's going to have a bunch of orgasms, and I'll see to it that she's able to have them with other guys in the future. But for the moment I'm keeping her poised right at the brink so she'll be ready for what's next.

At last I can feel my manhood rising back to attention between her thighs. I give her the mental okay for the next step.

"Oh God, Jim, I can't

stand

it any more. I've just

got

to have you inside me!"

Twist my arm, why don't you?

Keeping the camera angle in mind, I bend her over the bed and quickly roll on the condom that's conveniently sitting right there, unwrapped. Placing my reinvigorated manhood at her entrance, I push inside. I quickly bury myself to the hilt and Melinda cries out in pleasure.

Soon I'm thrusting hard and she's enthusiastically moving her hips to meet me. We move like we've done this together a hundred times. I finally give her the okay that she's been dying for and she explodes into her very first orgasm ever. It's massive. She's alternately screaming from the ecstasy and crying from the sheer unexpected pleasure of it all. She'd had no

clue

that anything could make her feel this good. This doesn't slow me down in the least, though, I thrust hard right through it.

As she comes down from her peak, I mentally nudge her into a position switch. I pull out and Melinda sits down on the edge of the bed, then lays back and wraps her legs around me as I enter her from a kneeling position. I bring my own padded leather footstool for just this purpose. I find that this position lets me plunge deep. With Melinda, this means that I hit bottom with about an inch left to go. This is common occurrence and it means that I'll have to be careful in certain positions this afternoon. I don't want to hurt her.

I'm wearing one of those new desensitizing condoms because I'm planning on thirty different positions for about two minutes apiece. Sometimes I go freeform, but today I'm testing my endurance with a regimented plan of action. At home, I've got a three ring binder with about two hundred different positions that I've grown to really like and I go through them on a rotating basis. Once a geek, always a geek! There are five sheets with six photos apiece taped to the wall above the headboard, illustrating today's agenda. Melinda won't notice them any more than she's noticing the camcorder.

I'm proud to say that each of the two hundred photos in my laminated library shows me with a different girl. They're all stills selected from my extensive videotape collection.

We're about a third of the way through the list when I decide that she deserves a really good orgasm. She's been in a very high state of arousal for about twenty minutes now and is really craving another one like the last.

She's lying on her side, curled up into a pike position with her behind hanging over the side of the bed while I kneel on the footstool and pound in and out of her unmercifully. If Melinda wasn't Charmed, I'd probably have to reach down and give her some manual stimulation to get her over the top. Instead, I take the easier route and mentally tickle her arousal center a little more. She explodes into an even bigger orgasm than before.

I have to specifically control her to keep her in position at this point; otherwise the overwhelming power of this one would have her bouncing off the bed. As it is, her vaginal muscles clamp down tight on me as I continue to stroke in and out.

At last I reach the end of the list. Melinda has really inspired me and at times I've let some positions go a bit long. We've been at it for nearly ninety minutes and the poor kid will probably walk with a limp tomorrow. She's on her back now and I've got her knees pressed down on either side of her chest while I rhythmically bump up against her cervix. Thankfully, she's quite flexible. I make a note to replace the redhead on the wall with a photo of Melinda in this position. This is one of my favorites when I'm with the kind of girl who can manage it.

I like to have physical as well as mental control, but I don't like to finish on the bed. I pull out and lead her over to the desk. Part of my pre-acquisition preparation is to clear off the top and pad the right edge for her with a couple of towels. Bending Melinda over the desk, I slide right back in and she squeals in delight. With the way she's feeling at the moment, every second I'm not inside her feels like an eternity. I begin to pound away with the sole aim of getting myself off. After holding myself back so long, this is going to feel great!