Leslie and I were sitting criss cross on the floor in our usual spot, under the shade in the back of the abandoned music building. It was at the back of the campus, far away from any active buildings. She was really cute, and really sexy. It drove me nuts. Tan skin, almost double D breasts that had grown from their original 'C' cup size she had a few weeks ago, due to birth control she had started taking. Wide hips, small waist, and a perfect bubble butt highlighted by her leggings. Short brown hair with dark orange highlights and glasses. She was wearing a cute sleeveless sweater over an undershirt. She was, anyway, the sexiest nerd on campus. She was inherently not sexual though. For as long as I have known her, which is several years, she has never spoken about sex, or boys, or anything. I told her I thought she was sexy once, to which she replied, "Never tell me that again". Now it was worse, because she was married. If I never thought I had a chance with her before, now it's impossible. I didn't mind though. She's a really good friend, and although it pains me just to look at her, she's my best friend.
"So how are your classes so far?" I asked. She sighed loudly.
"Awful, I'm taking 12 classes." My jaw dropped.
"Twelve?!" I asked. "Why?"
"Because I can graduate this semester if I do!" She said. She turned to her backpack and pulled out her binder. She started mindlessly writing or drawing on a blank page, I couldn't tell which. "I need to finish. I just want to be done. I've done 8 before, and that was hard but doable. These classes aren't even all core! Only two or three of them are." She said.
"And here I struggle with 4 classes... only 2 of which are core..." I said. She ripped the page out of her binder without looking and handed it to me.
Dear Tyler,
Hi! I'm Leslie's subconscious. I can talk to you because she's starting to lose her grip on reality. She's having a really hard time, between balancing her relationship, school, and her job. I'm worried about her. I think she needs some extra relief. She'd never admit it, but she's actually a very sexually charged person. She'd also never admit she needs help. I'm going to momentarily take her body over; the only part of her that will still be conscious is her hearing and voice. You and me, we're going to relax her body, treat her to a good time. As I will have her eyes, you just make a motion that you want me to perform with her body, and I'll do it. Thank you!
Love, leslie's subconscious.
I read the whole letter twice, just to make sure I was reading it right. She kept talking about her classes as I was reading. I don't know how she wrote this all without even looking at what she was writing, she was staring at me the whole time... It was kind of unnerving... I looked up at her. "Is this a joke?" I asked.
"What?! Why would I joke about taking 12 classes? I wish I was joking! I..." She kept talking, but I stopped being able to hear her with these... thoughts running around in my head. She doesn't seem to know what I just read... And she wrote this all without looking? That page was definitely blank when she started writing. I guess... I should motion for her body to do something... I went with the easiest, and first thing that came to my mind. I slowly raised my hands to my chest, and squeezed my invisible, pretend boobs. I scratched my chest, just in case I needed to play it off. Leslie raised both of her arms. No. Extended her fingers. No way. And placed them on her breasts. She began squeezing her breasts, and bouncing them up and down, all without even slightly deviating from talking about her classes. I looked her in her eyes. They were completely unfocused, not really looking at anything in particular. I scooted closer to her. She scooted closer to me.
"leslie? Are you feeling okay?" I asked.
"Yeah... I mean, these classes are hard, but I'm okay!" She said, still groping her own tits. There's no way this is really happening. I thought. There has to be a way to prove this is a joke, that she's just a really good actor or something. I don't want to jump too far though, if she IS joking. What would she absolutely never do around me? Or what is something she couldn't normally do? I thought. I puckered up my lips and kissed the air. Leslie leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of me. On all fours, she leaned in close to my face. Holy shit. No fucking wa- Mid sentence, she planted her lips right on mine. Her lips were warm and soft. It felt like a kiss she wanted just as much as I did. When she parted, she immediately picked up where she left off; "Ballet is really just for P.E credits, and it's a breeze, it's honestly kind of -" I puckered up my lips and kissed the air again, but stuck my tongue out this time. She leaned in and met my lips with hers once again. Soft, warm... and wet. She penetrated my mouth with her tongue, and felt every surface of my mouth with it. I hesitantly moved my tongue towards her mouth, still kind of anxious. Once I got there, and I began to really feel her mouth up, I realized the golden opportunity that had been presented to me. We parted, and she continued to talk about ballet. I squeezed my pretend breasts again, and she squeezed her real ones. I was now erect, and wanted to push her further. I wrapped my arms around me and pretended to take off my shirt. She did the same, but actually took her sweater off. She was now only wearing her undershirt, which was tight, and thinner than paper. I could see every curve of her torso. I made the same motion, and she took off her undershirt. She was wearing a sports bra. I acted out taking off a bra, and she proceeded to do so. Her breasts dropped. I squeezed my elbows together, and she did the same. My dick spasmed in my pants. I can't take this anymore. I thought. I stood up. She stood up. I pretended to take off my pants. She slid her yoga pants down, revealing her jiggly bubble butt. Then a thought occurred to me.
I grabbed her arm, and she grabbed mine. I swiftly moved her hand to my non-existent breast, and she, just as quickly, moved my hand to her, squishy, very real, very soft, breast. I felt my face get very red. I moved my hand from her arm up to her hand, and began gently pushing on her fingers. She did the same to my fingers. This feels so fucking good... I thought to myself. I moved my hand slowly down her chest. The feeling of her gentle fingers tracing my torso drove me crazy. Soon my hand was right above her cute, white, lace panties. Her hand was right above my boxers. I began to sweat. Am I really going to do this? I asked myself.
