The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

WEEK 1

Tammy took her seat in the small classroom and waited for the first class of the term to begin. A few other students trickled in behind her, but the classroom was not nearly full. Tammy caught a boy eyeing her and gave him a coquettish smile, fluffing her curly brown hair. Tammy was something of a hottie, and she knew it. She was barely taller than a shotgun, but her petite form was packed with curves in all the right places. She wore her dark hair short, curled around her ears, so it emphasized her cute face with the high, round-apple cheeks.

It was the beginning of Tammy’s second year at the small, liberal-arts college, but she wasn’t really all that interested in the arts. Or the sciences for that matter. Tammy’s interests ran more to boys, parties, boys, clothes, boys, beer, and boys. In her first year she hadn’t exactly topped the Dean’s list. She had done all right in Intro Psych though, so she had signed up for this course in Abnormal Psychology in the hope that it would prove similarly “grade-average favorable”.

She looked around the room casually, checking out the guy potential. There were less than two dozen students, and only four guys! Rotten! Still, at least one of them was kind of cute. She caught him looking her over. Unlike most of her female classmates, Tammy didn’t believe in going to class in jeans and sneakers. Today she sported black shorts and a pink, three-button cardigan that flared open at the bottom to show her navel. Her legs were decked in black hose, topped off with black canvas hightops. “Oh my goodness, it’s Professor Hartmann,” whispered Carla, Tammy’s roommate and fellow party-goer. She was slouched in her chair beside Tammy, a slender blonde who looked good even though she was wearing jeans and sneakers.

Tammy looked down at the white-haired man ambling into the front of the lecture hall. “Who?” she said.

Carla shook her head. “Jeez, Tam, don’t you pay any attention? Dr. Hartmann was in all the papers last term. There was a big investigation of his research and stuff. Turns out the prof was doing a study on student volunteers, some sort of improved-learning thing, but he was doing things he didn’t tell the students and some of them started to act really strange. Real X-files stuff. He didn’t have authorization or ethical approval or anything.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the guy’s only a couple years away from retirement so they didn’t fire him if he promised to leave at the end of the year. They hushed everything up. Let me tell you, Tam, universities hate seeing their name in the paper.” Carla liked to think she was world-wise.

Tammy looked down on the man approaching the lectern. He was certainly getting on, and with his heavy, snow-white moustache he reminded her of an aging walrus. He wore a grey suit. He looked perfectly harmless to her.

“Are you sure that’s him?” Tammy asked.

“Sure I’m sure. I saw his picture in the paper.”

“Good morning everyone,” the professor began. “Welcome to Psych 293, Abnormal Psychology. I am Dr. Hartmann, your instructor.” He had a slow, boring voice. He covered the usual drill about course content and such. Tammy didn’t pay much attention until he started talking about exams.

“As some of you may know, this is my last semester at this university,” Dr. Hartmann informed them. “And frankly, my children, I am a little tired of marking midterms and assignments. Therefore, in this class there will not be any. Instead I will be giving brief quizzes at the beginning of each Friday class. The quizzes cumulatively will be worth two thirds of your final grade. At the end of term, the remaining third will be determined by a twenty-minute oral exam. The quizzes are therefore quite important. I suggest you do not skip classes.” A collective groan rose from the class.

Dr. Hartmann surveyed them blandly as he spoke, his expression calm and professional. But when he saw Tammy, she was sure his eyes lingered for a moment on her legs. “To begin today’s class,” he went on, “I will be showing a brief video that presents an overview of the topics to be covered. Please pay close attention.” He pulled down a screen at the front of the room, dimmed the lights, and started the built-in video projector.

The video was clearly a home-made deal, shot in the professor’s office and featuring the professor himself. He had just pre-recorded himself to save the bother of talking live to the class. Tammy found him every bit as dull on tape as in person. To make matters worse, the lighting was terrible; there was some sort of background light that kept flickering in his eyes. It was really distracting. This guy was supposed to be the learning expert?

“Did you see the way the prof was checking me out?” Tammy asked as they filed out of class.

Carla bent over to pick up her bookbag. “When?”

“Just now, as he was leaving. And earlier too. He had his eyes all over my legs.”

“Like I’m sure,” Carla scoffed. “Prof. Hartmann is like a hundred years old.”

“He may be old,” Tammy said, “but he sure ain’t dead.”

The course started off with phobias and manias. The first quiz came on Friday, as promised. Tammy wasn’t really well prepared. There were always so many parties at the start of the term. It was too early and she was a little hung over. To make matters worse, the questions on the quiz were ambiguous and difficult, not the simple test-your-memory questions she had expected.

Prof. Hartmann gave them fifteen minutes to finish the quiz. While they wrote, the professor stood at the front of the class, leaning on the lectern, quietly surveying his 23 students. At one point Tammy looked up to see him gazing at her legs again. “Dirty old man,” she thought privately. “He’s always staring at me.” She uncrossed her knees and crossed them the other way, letting her black denim mini slip a little higher. Couldn’t hurt to get on the prof’s good side.

When the time was up the professor collected the papers, and to the mild surprise of the class he graded them right then and there. He put on another of his pre-recorded video lectures and retired to a desk in the corner, working in a little pool of light from a small desk lamp. When the tape ended he turned up the lights, handed back the exams and dismissed the class. Tammy scored 7 out of 10. She looked at her paper in surprise as she left the room. She shot a glance back at the professor. His eyes were on her nylons again. Tammy gave him her best little-girl smile. It looked like she had found the old fellow’s soft spot.

WEEK 4

“I don’t get it,” Carla complained, a few weeks later. “I can’t seem to get over 5 on these stupid quizzes to save my life. You get a 7 or an 8 every week. And I know you didn’t study for this one.”

That was true enough. In fact, Tammy had been out at a party the night before, and hadn’t actually made it back to the dorm until near sunrise. She’d had a great time, as much as she could remember.

“I don’t know,” she said evasively. “Maybe it’s in the interpretation of the questions or something.” She shrugged. Her pert breasts bounced beneath her red-striped pullover.

Carla stuffed her paper into her bookbag. “Shit, I hate these quizzes. The questions are so vague they could mean anything. How are we supposed to know what he wants? I just don’t get it.”

Tammy considered for a second. “Carla, can you keep a secret?”

That got her friend’s attention. “Probably not. Why, what is it?”

“I think I know why I do better at these quizzes than you. It has nothing to do with the answers, either.”

Carla raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Professor Hartmann is a dirty old man.”

Carla said nothing for a moment. She looked at Tammy, in her snug sweater and matching mini with a slit up the side. Then at herself, in faded jeans and a loose sweatshirt.

“You mean...”

“Yup. He is like always looking at me. Especially at my legs. Ever since the first day of class. So I make sure to wear something short for his lectures. Especially on Fridays. I think it puts him in a better mood or something. And I know that’s why I get better marks.” She giggled.

But Carla was not impressed. “Man, that is so sick. Prof. Hartmann is like older than this building. What a perv!”

“Hey, he’s not that old,” Tammy said, “and besides I think he’s kind of cute. Sort of like a friendly grandfather.”

Carla considered for a moment. “Do you suppose he would like me, you know, if I wore something different?”

“There’s only one way to find out, right?”

Laughing, the two girls headed off to their next lecture.

WEEK 5

“Looky, looky” Carla said, exactly one week later. She held up her quiz paper. Professor Hartmann had written a big 9 in red ink at the top. “And I had like no clue about that third question. I just made something up!”

“Told ya,” said Tammy.

Carla tittered as she got to her feet. She tugged down the hem of her stretchy minidress and dropped her quiz into her bookbag. She caught the professor watching her from across the room as she bent over. Her long legs looked very good in tan nylons and block-heeled shoes. “Hey, this course is fun!” she pronounced, as she and Tammy pranced out of the room.

WEEK 6

These videos are like, ultra-boring, Tammy reflected, as she looked about the darkened lecture hall. On the tape, Prof. Hartmann was droning on about paranoid psychosis, while the real Prof. Hartmann sat in the corner, quietly marking quiz papers. Tammy was pretty sure she would do well. Her navy blue skirt was very short, of course, and had cuts up the side to flash a little more of her sleek nylons. She was wearing new boots, too: sexy black, platform jobs that had nothing to do with keeping warm and everything to do with looking hot. She was pretty sure the professor liked boots.

Beside her, Carla was leaning on one hand, dully watching the video. Tammy could see the flickering light from the film reflected in her half-closed eyes. Carla’s black sweater showed off her blonde hair nicely, and her little black skirt was as brief as Tammy’s. Instead of boots she wore flamboyant platform slides with white straps and soft black soles a couple of inches high. Professor Hartmann’s voice droned on and on, hardly ever changing pitch or inflection. He never did fix that irritating light flickering in his eyes. Tammy found it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying.

I suppose I really ought to be taking notes, Tammy reflected vaguely. She looked around the darkened room. Several of the other girls were wearing daringly brief skirts or sundresses. One athletic-looking brunette was wearing red spandex short-shorts and a tight red T-shirt, coupled with the trendiest of trendy running shoes. Hmmm, looks like I’m not the only one to pick up on the professor’s weakness, Tammy said to herself. The class was smaller now. Perhaps frustrated with the endless quizzes, a number of students had dropped out, including three of the boys. Oh well.

WEEK 7

Carla was impatient. “Hey, come on, we’ll be late for the quiz.” This week it was psychosomatic illness and addictive personalities.

Tammy hung back. “Uh, you go ahead, OK? I just have to pop into the washroom for a minute.”

OK, I’ll meet you there!” She turned and tripped down the hall, her high-heeled sandals clicking on the tile floor. She was wearing a nifty little suit in three-color checks, with a very abbreviated, rump-hugging skirt and suntan pantyhose. It wasn’t quite fair, Tammy pouted. Her legs were as good as Carla’s, but Carla was taller, she just had more leg to show. But then she giggled, thinking about what she had planned for today.

“There, that should do it,” Tammy said a moment later, as she pulled her pantyhose back on. Her black panties were lying on the floor. She had carefully chosen the shade of her pantyhose to be just slightly opaque. She wanted the professor to see something, but not too much. To make it look sort of accidental. He had been stealing glances up her skirts for weeks now anyway.

She rolled the sleek nylons up her legs, but paused when she got to the top. Her bush was dark and curly, neatly trimmed. Just for a moment she slipped a finger downward, experimentally. She shuddered at the intense tremor of response. A few more strokes. It felt so good.

She hadn’t been laid in a while. None of her recent dates had quite done it for her. Maybe she was more attracted to older men. After a long moment she reluctantly pulled her hand away and adjusted her clothing. She didn’t want to be late for the quiz.

The lights went up and Tammy blinked. Was the video over already? She must have drifted off. Shit those films were boring. She looked around the room. Behind her, a drowsy looking redhead was stretching, deliberately pressing her rather large breasts against the tight halter-top she wore.

Professor Hartmann was already handing back this week’s term papers. The girls all smiled at him when he came by. One cute thing dropped her paper. It fell in front of her, between her fancy white ankle boots. Dr. Hartmann politely bent down and picked it up for her. She moved her legs a little, lifting her brief skirt. He straightened slowly. Tammy giggled; maybe she should try that.

Prof. Hartmann approached the aisle where Tammy and Carla were sitting. Tammy made sure she was in position, slouched casually in her chair with one foot hooked over the back of the armrest of the seat in front of her. This position showed off her dark-nyloned legs provocatively. Because the floor of the lecture hall slanted upward, it also made it very convenient for Professor Hartmann to sneak a peak under her skirt. Which he had been doing all through the quiz. He stopped for a moment as he approached. Tammy shifted in her chair, pretending not to notice.

Professor Hartmann smiled. “You continue to perform very well in this class, Carla,” he said, handing back her quiz.

“Oh, thank you Professor,” Carla gushed, leaning forward earnestly. She was wearing no blouse beneath the bright-coloured suit jacket. She made sure the professor got the full benefit of her new push-up bra.

“And you, Tammy,” the professor continued, “are sitting at the head of the class. Very impressive.”

Tammy looked as excited as she felt. “Wow, that’s great, Professor Hartmann,” she said, accepting her paper. The answers she had given for today’s quiz had been pretty much gibberish. She looked down at her paper and squealed in delight. Her first 10.

“Have a pleasant weekend, ladies,” the professor said. He cast one more long, lingering gaze down the length of Tammy’s shiny black nylons, between the hem of her little PVC miniskirt and her big-heeled platform clogs, before moving on to hand back more papers.

Tammy couldn’t stop grinning. A ten! She tugged down her skirt automatically as she got to her feet. Skipping her next class, she slipped into the washroom again and masturbated to a yummy climax. What a great course!

WEEK 9

Tammy opened the door of her dorm room and stepped inside. Carla jumped. “OH! Tammy. I, I didn’t see you there.”

“What are you doing?” Tammy asked. She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed. Her roommate was sitting at one of the built-in desks, dressed in a shorty nightgown. She seldom wore that one unless there was a man in the room. She appeared to be studying. But hadn’t her left hand been down between her legs?

Carla smiled a little nervously. Her face was flushed. “Oh, I was just, like boning up for the quiz tomorrow. What’s catatonia?” She pushed a thick lock of hair off her face.

“Couldn’t tell ya. Did we cover that?”

Carla closed her books. “So, how was the party?”

“Ahh, kinda boring. I left. Those guys are such dweebs.”

“Dweebs? Tam in case you haven’t noticed, that party you crashed was at the hottest frat on campus. Totally hunk city.”

“Yeah, well whatever. They’re still dweebs. Lotsa beer though.” She giggled, a little tipsy.

Carla flopped across her own bed on the other side of the room. “So,” she said after a moment, “what are you going to wear to Ab Psych tomorrow?”

Tammy turned to face her, leaning on one elbow. She considered carefully. “I’m not sure. Maybe that red dress, you know, with the yellow braids. He’ll like my legs in that. Or maybe that lycra thing, you know, the purple one? With the bra-top and tights. She ran one hand absently down her thigh. “Gotta get the right shoes, though... What are you gonna wear?”

“Oh, I got this great new outfit, sexy as hell. It’s got like a pink suit jacket and a really short skirt. I think I’ll wear it with my black lace underwear. He’ll love it!”

“Mmmmm, sounds good,” Tammy said sleepily. She was still rubbing her fingers absently against her tight jeans. Privately, she wished Carla weren’t there, so she could masturbate for a while. She couldn’t seem to find the right guy lately to scratch her itches. Maybe she needed somebody older, more experienced.

“Hey,” said Carla, suddenly enthusiastic, “let’s try some stuff on!”

“Good idea!”

The girls bounced to their feet and began undressing. Tammy took rather longer to wiggle out of her designer jeans than for Carla to pull her nightie over her head. Tammy admired Carla’s nude body as she strode to the closet. She really is a looker, Tammy decided. She found her attention lingering on the curve of her roommate’s breasts, the round press of her ass as she bent over. Carla reached into a shopping bag and pulled out some scraps of black lace. “Look at this!” she chortled, holding them up for Tammy to see.

“Oh, cool. Try them on!”

Carla separated the crotchless bikini panties from the bunch and pulled them snugly up her hips. The black fabric emphasized the puff of blonde hair around her pussy. Tammy watched. Carla then found the bra, a shamelessly skimpy thing and began to work her way into it.

“Here, lemme help,” said Tammy, stepping up behind her. She found the ends of the straps and fastened the single hook. Her hands felt the warmth of Carla’s back.

Carla turned, modelling the skimpy underwear. “Whaddya think?”

“Awesome!”

“Wait, here’s the best part.” She picked up one of the two remaining garments, a sheer, light black stocking with lace around the top.

Tammy grabbed it. “Hey, sit down. Let me,” she said impulsively.

“Oh, uh OK,” Carla said uncertainly, sitting down on the bed.

Tammy finished removing her sweater, leaving her in her underwear too. Then she knelt down in front of Carla and carefully began rolling the filmy stocking up her leg. Carla tittered. Tammy did it slowly, smoothing out the fabric as she went. Carla twitched when she got to the top. “Hey, careful, that... tickles.” Tammy was breathing warm against her skin.

“Now the other one,” Tammy said, starting in on the second stocking. Carla leaned back on the bed as Tammy raised her leg in the air. “I’ve always envied your legs, Carla. They are just so perfect.” She used both hands to smooth out the stocking.

“Tammy, I, uh...” Carla said, as Tammy began to arrange the stay-up lace tops of the stocking.

“I’ve always dreamed of having legs like yours.”

“Tammy, maybe we shouldn’t, like....” She felt breath against her inner thigh.

“Hey, Carla, honey, you’re a li’l wet down here.” Tammy’s voice was husky. Suddenly bold, she slipped one finger between the inviting pink lips in the middle of the nest of blonde curls.

“Tam! Stop that!”

“Mmmmmmm, baby you taste good,” Tammy purred, sucking on her finger. She was bent way over, between Carla’s stocking-wrapped legs. She bent a little further, flicking out her tongue to taste where her finger had been. Then she used her whole mouth.

“TAMMMEEE!” Carla wailed, “What are you doing! Please, don’t do... oh god, no... oh shit.... oh god Tammmeeeeee!”

But here roommate was going at it full bore now, tongue and lips slurping and licking hungrily. Carla groaned and fell back on the bed, thrusting her hips upward to meet Tammy’s dancing tongue. She gripped the pillow in both hands and squeezed, breathing raggedly. Her orgasm came quickly and hard.

When she had finally calmed down and stopped panting, Carla returned Tammy’s favor. Twice.

Both girls slept well that night.

WEEK 11

Tammy sat in her usual seat in Ab Psych, leaning contentedly on her hands while she listened to her instructor drone on about criminal insanity. Professor Hartmann was a dear, sweet man, but by god did he ever give a dull lecture. She liked to watch his lips move beneath his white walrus moustache. Some men just grew more sophisticated with age.

The clock struck ten. “Well, that will be all for today,” Prof. Hartmann said, closing his lecture notes. “Don’t forget tomorrow’s quiz. Next week we’ll take a look at erotic obsessions and sexual perversions. Always popular topics.”

There was a ripple of anticipation from the dozen or so girls left in the class. Three more students had dropped out just before the deadline. Two of these were girls—really serious, bookworm types that Tammy didn’t like very much—and the other was the one remaining male student. Tammy had heard that the guy had dropped out of school completely, and was now driving a taxi or something.

Tammy shook her head to wake up a little. She looked down at her open notebook. Darn it, she had forgotten to take notes again. The page was covered with sloppy doodles, mostly sketches of faces with long, droopy moustaches. Some of them had a big, erect penis where the nose should be. Tammy closed the book quickly and stuffed it into her bag. Beside her, Carla yawned and stretched like a cat. “That man can lecture me about sexual perversion anytime,” she pronounced.

“He’s such a sweetie, isn’t he,” Tammy said dreamily. She pulled out her make-up mirror and inspected her face critically. Carla got to her feet and made a show of adjusting her garter straps. The silvery, sleeveless minidress she was wearing barely covered her lace stocking-tops when she was standing. Sitting down, it gave up completely. Tammy knew exactly what skimpy things Carla was wearing under the dress, of course, because she had helped her get dressed in the morning. It was a lot more fun that way, though it did tend to make them late for class.

Tammy was wearing stockings too, sheer satin ones, along with her navy miniskirt and the tall platform boots she figured the professor liked. Tammy wasn’t wearing any panties though, having removed them again in the washroom before class. She had been shooting Prof. Hartmann beaver shots through the whole lecture. She felt confident of another 10 on tomorrow’s quiz.

Reflexively, Tammy looked to the front of the room as she got to her feet, to see if the professor was checking out her legs. But he had three other students around his desk now, all dressed hot, all asking flirty, girlish questions and giving the professor one more chance to admire their cleavage or whatever. Tammy pursed her lips. There was a lot of competition in this class. Funny, all the plain or studious girls seemed to have dropped out, even the really smart ones. The three pretty girls fawning over Prof. Hartmann were all wearing minis or shorts, but none of them had legs as good as hers, Tammy decided.

She looked at her watch. “Hey, Carla, we’re running late. We’d better run for European History.”

Carla stretched again. “Aw, fuck history,” she said indifferently. “Let’s go shopping.”

“Really? Right now?”

“Why not? We have a quiz tomorrow. Can’t hurt to look our best.”

“Yeah. OK, let’s go!” Giggling conspiratorially the two girls sauntered by the lectern on the way out the door. This time Tammy did catch the professor’s eye. He smiled benignly as he took one more look at her sexy, boot-clad legs. She winked at him.

WEEK 12

Tammy studied herself in the washroom mirror, making sure her dark hair was curled just right. “Man, I can’t believe the term is almost over.”

“Hmmmmm, I know what you mean.” Carla finished applying a layer of red lipstick and rolled her lips experimentally. “After today there’s just one more quiz. This course is just fucking excellent!”

The two girls were in the washroom down the hall from the lecture room, crowding around the big mirror with most of the other girls in the class. There was a lot of laughter and banter going on as the girls adjusted their clothes and checked their hair and make-up. Tammy didn’t mind the crowd. It was kind of fun to bump and rub the other girls, feeling their bodies momentarily against hers. It reminded her of the hour she and Carla had spent that morning, missing their early class to dress each other. It took the full hour because clothing kept coming off again.

“OK, I’m ready,” Carla announced, tugging at her yellow and white vinyl mini. She was wearing a matching top that left her midriff bare and scooped low over the bosom. Tammy wore a clingy velour slip-dress to emphasize her curves, dark stockings with a subtle pattern woven in, and black, oxford-style platforms. The chunky heels gave her several inches of extra height, and, she hoped, played up her youthful cuteness.

As the captivating co-eds strutted away to their morning quiz, one of Carla’s high heels landed on the inside page of a discarded newspaper. There was a picture there of a wild-eyed young woman, long hair in tangles, nude except for what looked like thigh-high boots, being escorted away by two police officers. The caption underneath read:

“Exhibitionist detained after wild campus romp.”

“Breakdown probably stress-related, says expert.”

There were only eleven girls in the class now. Tammy didn’t care much about the news. Her main concerns at the moment were showing off her body for Professor Hartmann’s benefit, and avoiding falling asleep during the video.

She fell asleep again.

As the lights came up, Tammy shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She looked around groggily. Most of the other girls had dozed off too. They were gradually coming back to life as Professor Hartmann moved about handing back quizzes. He complemented the whole class on how well they were doing. “It looks like only the dedicated students stayed with the course,” he observed, looking over at Tammy. At once she moved her legs apart to give him a better upskirt shot. She no longer stopped in the washroom to remove her panties before class. It was easier to just skip putting them on in the morning. Since she had Ab Psych classes three times a week, she just generally went without.

Carla and Tammy got their papers back, and made the most of the professor’s momentarily undivided attention. Tammy felt moisture between her legs. When he was gone, Tammy looked at her paper. Another ten. Some of the answers she had given today weren’t even complete sentences.

Both girls were feeling groggy after the video so they decided to skip History again and just go back to the dorm for a nap. Or whatever. They were both failing history anyway. On the way there Tammy remembered she had been invited out to a party the night before. Funny, it had just slipped her mind. It didn’t matter much, though. None of the guys she had met recently excited her at all. They were so immature. She was much more attracted to older men.

Like that man in the mall the other day, when she and Carla were out shopping. He was some sort of a businessman, silver-haired and sophisticated, sitting patiently on a bench, probably waiting for his wife or something. Tammy noticed him eyeing her as she went by. She was dressed to kill, naturally. She decided to stop at a store she didn’t ordinarily frequent, hanging around the front window display to give the man a good show. She even bent over a couple of times to give him a look under her skimpy skirt. She was trying to think of an excuse to go over and talk to him, but then his wife came back and they left. Darn.

The incident had gotten Tammy sort of excited. She slipped into a washroom for a little hand play. In fact, just thinking about it now was revving up her engine again. Maybe she would just duck into the ladies’ for a minute or two....

Man, Tammy thought as she entered the deserted washroom, I’m going to go nuts if I don’t get laid soon. She headed for a vacant stall, but stopped when she heard voices. One of the stalls was already occupied. Curious, Tammy pressed one eye against the crack along the door hinge.

There were two women in the stall. Tammy recognized them as Keri-Ann and Jasper, two classmates from Ab Psych. Keri-Ann, who was dark blonde and well built, was wearing a grommet-studded, leather bra top along with a black leather jacket and miniskirt. Jasper, by contrast, was wearing a bright purple body stocking rendered barely decent by a white vinyl vest and matching short-shorts. She had Keri-Ann sort of pinned against the wall, and was nuzzling and pawing aggressively.

Keri-Ann whispered urgently: “Jasper, jesus, stop this, can’t you—— can’t you at least wait till we get back to the dorm?” She fought to keep her bra-top on.

Jasper was kissing her everywhere. “No!” she breathed. “I can’t wait. Not another minute. Not another second. I’m so hot!” She yanked down one shoulder-strap while her other hand disappeared up the back of Keri-Ann’s skirt. “Psych class always makes me so fucking horny!”

Keri-Ann was quickly losing ground. She gasped as the taller girl began to kiss and lick her suddenly bare breast. “Oh jesus, Jasper, baby, oh shit... but, but what about—oh shit not there—what about your b-b-boyfriend?” She spread her legs as Jasper rucked her short skirt up, slowly kissing her way down her belly.

“Fuck him!” Jasper whispered between kisses. “He’s so juvenile.” She was on her knees now. “And you,” she said, as she slipped her head down between Keri-Ann’s thighs, “Are soooo beautiful...”

Keri-Ann jerked suddenly and a spontaneous “Oh!” escaped her. Her eyelids fluttered. “Ohhh, Jasper!” she sighed.

Standing in the empty washroom watching the two girls get it on, Tammy felt her own temperature rising. She began to fondle her breasts through her slinky dress, while her other hand slipped under the high-riding hem to find her lovenest. The absence of panties made it very accessible. In the washroom, Keri-Ann had her eyes closed and was kneading and squeezing her nipples while her partner ate her out zestfully. She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying out. But when her peak came a cry escaped her anyway and she bent forward suddenly, almost collapsing over Jasper’s back as her knees buckled. Tammy watched, fascinated, her hand moving vigorously. She hoped the other girls didn’t hear her panting.

After a long moment Jasper struggled to her feet and the girls embraced, still hot. They kissed long and deep, fondling each other eagerly, pressing their chests together. Conversation had descended to simple grunts and moans. Keri-Ann sort of half-sat on the toilet seat, Jasper flopped over her, and began to fuss with the zipper on her skin-tight white shorts. They came off eventually, to reveal a neat cut-out around the crotch of her bright purple body stocking. She heaved up on the toes of her cute white running shoes and planted both hands against the wall, blonde hair dishevelled, while Keri-Ann bent to lave her with her tongue.

Just outside the cubicle Tammy was near orgasm herself. She was stroking herself shamelessly, leaning against the crack by the door so she could use both hands to touch herself. She could feel the metal pressing against her forehead as she bounced forward and back. Suddenly the climax hit her, intense and blinding, a cascade of overwhelming pleasure. She cried out loud and bucked helplessly. Her head struck the door once more, the lock slipped, and Tammy stumbled forward, colliding instantly with the two interlocked women inside the cubicle. “Oh my god!” she cried out, mortified. She still had one hand underneath her minidress.

Jasper looked at her, breathless, her eyes bright and glassy. “Tammy!” she whispered. “Come on, join us!” Arms reached out to caress her.

There was barely room for all three girls in the toilet cubicle. But they managed.

WEEK 13