The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cecelia drove her white Ford Mustang around the dilapidated neighborhood looking for Paul’s apartment, regretting her procrastination. She had put off retrieving the tutorial program from Paul for two weeks. Now, she was stuck driving around this neighborhood of over-flowing dumpsters and dirty shirtless kids right before the car show.

She worked for a car accessory company called KZ’s Dynamics, a self-important name to be sure. Mostly, she went to events for the company, modeling for their product. Up to now, all that entailed was to be a pretty face and show up at various amateur races wearing something reasonably stylish to show off her feminine form: tight jeans that clung to her ass, an equally tight t-shirt covering her incredible breasts, and a sexy pair of heels. But today, was the Big Car Show. There were to be 20000 people showing up at the convention center, and that was a moderate figure for a Sunday. She was supposed to be there within an hour to sign posters for KZ. For now, she was driving around this strange area, wearing a white nylon shirt with a checkered flag design, silky black shorts, and knee-high boots.

She found the small house where Paul lived and got out of her car to walk up to the front door. She thought about how strange situations could be. Here she was, a Latina, with Grandparents that spoke the language perfectly, having to ask this white guy with glasses for any help he could give to help her to pass the class.

He must be some type of genius, she thought. He spoke rapid-fire Spanish to her professor. He spoke effortlessly to students from Spain, Venezuela, or any other Spanish-speaking company. She had even heard that he learned Mandarin Chinese in the military. She would have to do her best to get him on her side.

Paul opened the door, and looked like he had just awakened, although it was nearly noon. He was barefoot, and wearing a dirty pair of sweats.

“Nice of you to stop by,” he stated, gesturing for Cecelia to enter with a wide smile on his face. She returned the smile, showing her dimples and perfect white teeth, and entered.

“Hi, do you have that disk you were talking about?”

“Sure, let me get it for you.” Paul ventured to the back of the house,and returned moments later with a disk and a pair of headphones.

“Here’s the disk with the program on it. Here’s some headphones. I think they work much better. You really need to get started on it. We have a test coming up and the professor isn’t too happy with your performance so far,” he stated, “just between you and me.”

Paul handed her the disk and headphones and gazed from her boots, up to her toned thighs, on to her impressive bust in the white shirt, and then her face. She was not smiling anymore.

“Where are you headed in such a get-up?” he asked.

“The car show. I do some modeling for a car accessory company that has a booth there. I’m going to be signing some posters.”

“Posters? Do you have one?” he asked. Cecelia’s face faltered a bit, but she responded, “Sure, I’ll get it.” She returned with a rolled up, glossy sheet, handed it to Paul, and then quickly left. She had to get to work.

Cecelia walked hurriedly down the pathway in front of Paul’s house, her arms folded over her chest. She wanted to conceal herself as much as possible from any creepy voyeurs that might be looking from unknown places. She sensed that Paul was leering at her from his front window, but didn’t want to turn around. She felt uncomfortable as she got into her car and left for the convention center downtown.

Cecelia got home late that night. She had spent the better part of seven hours signing posters, having men leer at her, and being surrounded by the cacophony of 20,000 people walking past. All she wanted to do now was take a shower and go to bed.

She saw the disk that Paul had given her on the desk. He’d her that she should start studying with it as soon as possible. She had a mid-term in Spanish in a couple of weeks that was worth a significant part of her class grade. Responsibility got the best of her. Cecelia got up off the bed, and installed the program onto her computer.

The first page was a dark orange, and showed the publisher of her textbook, Macnamara Publications. Then, it took her to a page with options. Cecelia chose the option Listening for Signals, and put on her headphones.

Some soft guitar music started playing while the narrator spoke the instructions.

“Hello, welcome to Macnamara Publications Tutorial for Spanish. This program is designed to expand your comprehension of the Spanish language and heighten your ability to read and listen to this remarkable language. “

Cecelia clicked on the prompt. Another orange screen came up instantaneously with a small flag of Spain waving on the right side, very deliberately, turning the 2-D image into one that had a third dimension.

“Section One: Adjectives,” Stated the narrator, “Let’s begin.”

The program started listing adjectives, spoken in the resonant tone of the narrator’s voice. The tutorial started out with primary colors: red, blue, yellow. rojo, azul, amarillo. Each color had its own sentence that Cecelia repeated to herself.

El coche es rojo. The car is red

Los flores son amarillos. The flowers are yellow.

El cielo es azul. The sky is blue.

She was going to make the most out of the study session. The tutorial listed every color imaginable, and Cecelia repeated every practice phrase.

Next, were adjectives dealing with other descriptive words. Cecelia listened to the soothing guitar music and the pleasant-sounding voice of the narrator, while her eyes remained transfixed on the Spanish flag, waving, undulating, so deliberate in its movements.

“Grande. Big. Pequeno. Small.” The tutorial continued. Cecelia repeated the words and the succeeding sentences and phrases.

“Los Estados Unidos es un pais grande”. The United States was a big country

“El nino es pequeno.” The little boy was small.

“Rapido. Fast. Despacio. Slow”

“Duro. Hard. Suave. Soft”

“Caliente. Hot. Frio. Cold”

“Me gusta chingar rapido y duro. Me gusta un pico duro.”

I like something or other, thought Cecelia. She couldn’t understand most of those words. Hard and fast she did know. Cecelia thought of an anonymous hard cock on a faceless man. Yes, hard and fast. She grinned widely, as the flag kept waving in front of her eyes, and the guitar continued strumming.

The next section was nouns. The list was plentiful and lengthy. Cecelia heard Spanish words and their English equivalents ranging from technological devices (televisor, telefon, computerdora), modes of transportation (coche. car. tren. train), and occupations (maestro, professor, doctor). The Spanish words for nurse and waiter were enfermera and camarero.

Halfway through the section, the words changed to those describing appearance.

“Nariz. Nose. Oreja. Ear.”

“Pierna. Leg."”

“Te gusta sus pierdas?”

Did she like her legs, the program asked. Cecelia reached down between her legs and felt the smooth skin, bringing her soft hands over the insides, around the knees and over the tops of her boots, and back around the outsides of her thighs. “Si, me gusta.” She answered blankly.

“Divertido. fun. Aburrido. Boring”

“Tu eres una chica divertida?” asked the voice. Is she a fun girl?

“Si, claro.” Of course Cecelia answered.

The program started incorporating all the different forms of vocabulary discussed so far.

“Ajustado. Tight. Flojo. Loose”

“Brazo. arm. Pecho. Chest”

“Sentirse. To feel”

“Su pecho sientese adjustado.” Your chest feels tight, remarked the narrator. Cecelia’s bra felt like it had shrunk dramatically. She reached under her shirt and unclasped it, letting her large breasts free. Her flimsy white shirt draped atop her large breasts.

“Liso. Smooth. Su pecho es liso.” Cecelia glided her hands along her ample tits, running them underneath and clasping them in her soft hands. “Ahh!” she sighed.

The beautiful young Latina ran her hands all over her body while staring at the ever-moving flag on the screen. Her legs, her breasts, her arms. Heat emanated from between her legs, but it felt like she didn’t have the proper instruction to touch herself down there. Just then, the narrator gave her that for which she was so desperate.

“Pico. cock. pinocha. pussy.”

Cecelia closed her eyes, imagining a familiar man standing in her room naked, his hard cock pointing at her. “Mojado. wet. Su pinocha es mojada?” asked the narrator.

“Si, muy,” she moaned.

Cecelia felt her pussy baking, and anticipating a touch. She was becoming wet rapidly. It was time for the next section of the tutorial.

“Section three: verbs”

“Limpiar. to clean. limpiarse. to clean oneself.”

“Manejar. to drive. quitar. to remove”

“Tocar. to play. tocarse. to play with oneself.”

“Quita sus ropas y tocase.” suggested the narrator. Cecelia slipped her fingers furiously inside of her skin-tight shorts and pushed them and the thong underwear off her hips in one motion.

Cecelia felt the cold of the metal chair on her smooth ass. Her shorts and panties ended up around the bottom of her boots, confining her legs like shackles. Her pussy was smooth and bare, just shaved cleanly this morning.

She followed the tutorial’s instructions, and moved her hand to her wet softness. She moaned softly as she spun the tips of her fingers and manicured nail around her flesh. She leaned back as much as she could in her chair, and worked her clit with her middle finger, flicking it with her nail, quivering with her eyes closed.

“Es bueno, si?” inquired the narrator.

“Si, es bueno!” exclaimed Cecelia. Her finger slipped intermittently inside of herself while rubbing at her pussy. Her mind went to work, trying to format a fantasy for her self-pleasure. She thought of a faceless man, a stranger she didn’t know. Her mind went to an image of her boyfriend of three years, Jason. The image shifted out of her mind. Next, she envisioned Paul. Sexual pleasure flooded from her brain and throughout the rest of her body.

“Oh God, yes!” This image fit in this situation. She worked her fingers, knees open wide under her computer desk, thinking of Paul, servicing him, letting him maul her body, suck on her great tits.

Cecelia’s pace quickened. It was coming, she thought in the recesses of her dazed mind. She moaned loudly, stiffened and quaked as she climaxed.

She hazily opened her eyes and resumed looking at the flag, and listening to the voice, and the guitar music in the background. A voice came into the headphones.

“Hola Cecelia, I know that this program is helping you immensely. Be sure to listen to future editions of Listening for Signals. You’ll pass that test excellently.” The last sentence was spoken in Spanish, but Cecelia understood it. “Comprendes, senorita?

“Si, comprendo” said a lethargic Cecelia.

“Now, Cecelia, what are you wearing right now?”

“My car show uniform,” she replied to her empty room

“Still?” said the voice in the headphones. “What type of underwear are you wearing?”

“No underwear. Shorts too tight.” Replied the girl.

The narrator asked her a handful of additional questions,all in Spanish, while Cecelia listened to the strumming guitar and gazed at the waving flag. The phantom interviewer on the computer wanted to know if she shaved her pussy. She did, a duty of her occupation. It was necessary when wearing a bikini or thong underwear. It asked if she painted her toenails. Of course, she replied. It asked if she had any tattoos or piercings. She had none besides her bellybutton and ears. The interview was quick, taking less than a minute.

Finally, the Voice said, “Good girl! Now listen to the nice Spanish man tell you a story. When he is finished, you will take a shower, and have a nice dream tonight. Remeber to continue your studies with subsequent editions of the series.”

Cecelia awoke sitting upright in the plush chair facing her computer monitor. She had drooled onto her chin. “I need a shower,” she whispered to herself. Afterward, she crawled into bed naked, as was usual, and fell into a deep sleep.

On Monday mornings, Cecelia had Spanish class to start off the week at the local state university. She awoke her usual two hours before class. In fact, she woke up two hours before she went anywhere. She needed the time to shower, shave her body, apply her make-up, and pick the right outfit.

She remembered vaguely that she needed to get another disk from the teacher’s assistant Paul. Did he remind her of this at his apartment yesterday? It didn’t seem like she was there long enough, and she didn’t remember him saying much. With her tight jeans swaying and her black high heels clacking, Cecelia walked out to her car.

Professor Guitierrez’s class met three times a week. It always consisted of the instructor, a gruff looking Hispanic man with a thick mustache and glasses, trying to prompt his students to return conversation in proper Spanish. He was only moderately successful, as most students either remained silent or spoke in broken slang Spanish that highly perturbed Guitierrez.

Paul sat in a lone desk in the front of the large hall, along the sidelines of the professor’s lecture area. Cecelia never paid much attention to him, but today she let her mind wander to thoughts of him.

He has a lot of good qualities, she thought. I wonder how much he really knows, how much he can help me. She watched as Paul sat, listening to the professor intently, legs akimbo underneath the plain one-piece desk.

Unintentionally, her mind wandered to an image of her fucking Paul, his cock pounding away into her from behind while she supported herself on the professor’s desk in the front of the room. Her pussy quivered.

Cecelia shook it out of her head. She had a boyfriend of three years, Jason. She had met him in high school and liked the way she felt with him. She tried to imagine a fantasy with Jason, his square-jawed face and dark brown eyes staring into hers, his body hard from his arduous line of work, his thick cock gliding into her. For some reason, she didn’t feel like fantasizing anymore.

“Bueno class, don’t forget the midterm coming up. Don’t wait until the last minute!” exhorted Gutierrez.

Class was over, and Cecelia made a beeline to Paul through the mass of exiting students. “Paul, Paul,” she called, “Did you have another disk for me to study with?”

Paul had bags under his eyes and looked tired. He must be working hard for the professor, thought Cecelia.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to give this to you yesterday.” Paul reached into his disheveled backpack and pulled out another disk, marked with a Roman Numeral II. “This should help you with your conversation skills. It’s alot of conversation so listen to it with little distraction.” He handed her the disk.

She took it from him. “Thank you, Paul” she said flirtatiously, gliding her French-manicured hard across his shoulder and displaying her dazzling, dimpled smile. “You’re a big help.” She smiled as she walked away, knowing Paul was gaping at her swaying ass, giddy with sex appeal.

The day was surprisingly sunny and clear. Cecelia decided to wear a simple red cotton skirt with small white flowers, a beige-colored blouse, and some stylish heels. She was on her way to the mall, to look for a present for her boyfriend Jason. It was his birthday, and she had a big night planned for him.

She thought of the Spanish tutorials that Paul had given to her. They must be working, she thought. She found herself thinking of Spanish phrases and conversation in her head. She was even tempted to switch the radio dial to a Spanish language station to test her new knowledge. Maybe Paul could give her something to play in her Mustang, she pondered.

It was a weekday afternoon, and the mall had a scant crowd. Cecelia browsed the various shops. She stopped into the lingerie shop and had a look around. She gave in to temptation and bought a dark blue lace underwear and thong set. She would wear it for Jason tonight, she thought. It would make the day even more special.

Jason was a stylish man, and wore his clothes well. Cecelia stopped at a few high-end men’s clothing stores and bought her boyfriend some jeans and a couple of brightly-colored shirts that would look good on his muscular frame.

After her shopping trip, Cecelia had a few hours to kill before Jason picked her up for dinner and clubbing. She thought about taking a nap, but decided to take a look at the second disk that Paul gave her yesterday.

She went to her bedroom, and installed the program contents onto her computer. She put the headphones on. For some reason, the sound would only come through on the headphones that Paul gave her, and not through the regular computer speakers.

The familiar orange screen came up, the orange and yellow Spanish flag rolling on the screen. A low, sonorous trumpet playing smoothly replaced the guitar music of the previous disk.

“Welcome Cecelia, to Listening for Signals.” The trumpet played a welcoming motive. “Section Four: Conversational Practice.”

The Spanish narrator went into a dense, verbose monologue. Cecelia, already prepared for concentration, became immersed in the words, trying to decipher them as fast as possible. Her eyes focused intently on the Spanish flag’s coat-of-arms, the only emblem on the orange and yellow symbol. “Zapatos azules,” were two words that Cecelia heard. Blue Shoes.

Fifteen minutes later, with the conversational practice continuing, Cecelia was nude except for a pair of blue, strappy high heels that she hardly ever wore but had retrieved from her closet. Her legs were lewdly and unashamedly spread on both sides of her computer, the pointed heels of her shoes pointing toward the wall.

She had tilted her pelvis to position herself on the metal chair as comfortably as possible, while she masturbated intensely. Various words sent images into her mind.

“Coche blanco,” Cecelia thought of her own white car, being fucked hard on the hood.

“Sesenta- nueve” The number 69 – Cecelia was on a handstand sucking on a cock while an unknown stranger sat on an old couch, licking and feasting on her brown, bare pussy.

Cecelia’s fingers were slick with her own juices. She moaned deeply throughout her self-pleasuring session. Nobody else was in the neighboring apartments in this late afternoon, but regardless, Cecelia didn’t care. The melodic brass continued playing into the headset, accompanying the narrative.

“Inteligencia – mas importante, Inteligencia y Espanol” intoned the narrator.

Intelligence and Spanish, Intelligence and Spanish, these words went through Cecelia’s mind. Connecting the two brought her to an image of Paul. Images of Paul giving her the disks. Images of Paul speaking fluidly with the professor. Images of Paul lying on her bed, clean soft sheets beneath him, Cecelia atop of him pumping his cock hard into her pussy, Paul pulling her down to suckle on her thick brown nipple.

This last image sent Cecelia into explosive ecstasy. “Oh God!!” she screamed, mind blank from climax. The narrative ran down as Cecelia’s climax faded.

“Muy bien, Cecelia!” praised the voice from the computer. “You are moving along nicely.”

Cecelia stared blankly at the screen, one high-heeled foot resting on the floor while the other heel crooked into the edge of the desk.

“Quite flexible, si?’ asked the narrator, “No matter, you have a big night tonight. Have fun, but remember your Spanish lesson. It is very important to not let your skills and memories of studying wane. Comprendes?”

Cecelia answered yes. “Muy bien, now get dressed, take a nap, and you will feel refreshed for tonight. Again, be sure to remember this special study session. It will be extremely helpful. Also, be sure to listen to subsequent editions of Listening for Signals. You know where to get them, si?”

“Other versions – Si – Paul.” Cecelia answered.

“Very good. Now, go”

Cecelia, headphones still on, deliberately put her shopping outfit back on. The narrator ceased talking and the trumpet stopped playing. She removed the headphones when fully dressed, fell on her bed, and went to sleep.

Cecelia awoke two-and-a-half hours later, lying on her bed, clothes and hair disheveled. It was the outfit she’d worn to the mall, but she didn’t remember wearing the blue high heels. Why would I put these on, she asked herself. Must’ve wanted to see how they looked for tonight, although she hadn’t planned on wearing blue.

The room smelled like sex. Cecelia could smell it on herself. Do women have wet dreams, she wondered. She glanced at the alarm clock next to her bed, and saw that she needed to hurry. Jason would be there to pick her up soon.

Cecelia showered and washed. She applied her make-up and blow-dried her hair. Thinking about the blue shoes from earlier, she decided on a baby-blue dress that would hug her curves deliciously and show off her impressive cleavage. This will drive Jason wild, she thought. Jason had been wholly agreeable two years ago when it was decided that she would get breast augmentation. She had to admit that he was right in this case. Her clothes looked better, and the exponential sex appeal was incredibly helpful to her blossoming modeling career.

She heard a honk from outside. It must be Jason, she thought. She hurried outside to his glimmering red truck, her blue heels clacking staccato on the walkway. Music poured from the inside, and custom-made rims on his wheels (courtesy of her association with KZ Dynamics) glistened.

“Hey baby!” she purred as she climbed into the front seat. She gave him a full, wet kiss, “Happy birthday.” They drove off to begin their night.

They ate at an Italian restaurant in the ritzy part of town. Cecelia could feel eyes on her as she ate. They ate Alfredo and spaghetti, and enjoyed the garlic bread.

Afterwards, they went to a club downtown. They danced and drank. Jason gyrated on the floor rhythmically, and complimented Cecelia’s own movements well. Cecelia became tipsy after just a few Long Island ice teas. Jason drank too many beers and cokes mixed with whiskey.

When dancing had become old, and when both of them were becoming aroused from the night’s activities, they decided to go to Jason’s place. They often ended up at Jason’s apartment for frenzied lovemaking.

Jason opened up his front door and held it open for Cecelia to enter. God, I’m so fucking horny, she thought. The door closed and Jason attacked her, mauling her breasts. His tongue invaded her mouth, and Cecelia responded.

“Oh, happy birthday, sexy, let’s go to the bedroom.” She grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway to the back of the apartment. Once there, Jason drunkenly started removing his clothes and dropping them in a pile. His eyes leered at his disrobing girlfriend.

Cecelia knew that she was teasing him. She also knew that a little tease now would turn him into a sexual animal in a few minutes. So, she removed her dress nonchalantly, pretending that she was in the room alone. She slowly removed her bra, letting her great tits free. Next were her panties. She sat on the bed and methodically started undoing the straps of her shoes, totally naked otherwise. Jason leered at her, naked himself, cock already hard and bobbing with every minute movement he made.

Once the shoes were off, Cecelia slid herself onto his bed and spread her legs. Jason moved between them and slid his tongue into her mouth. He then moved down her neck, sucking and licking to her breasts, where he sucked the nipples into hard knobs.

This continued for a few minutes. Cecelia could feel Jason’s hard cock graze her own bare pussy intermittently and it felt electric. She wanted to fuck now. She grabbed his cock with her right hand, her manicured nails resting along the slide of the stiff organ, and slid it into her.

All at once, she felt full, but something was missing. It felt sterile, clinical. There was no passion, only fullness in her vagina. She was baffled. This was like the feminine version of impotence.

Jason felt differently. He let out a small moan as he entered Cecelia. He started rocking back and forth in her, his hands grabbing the back of her head, enmeshing in her thick wavy hair.

Jason pumped into her, sliding the length of his member along the inside of her. Cecelia was not in the mood anymore, but she couldn’t push him off of her on his birthday. She let her mind wander.

Cecelia thought of a multitude of events. She thought about bills, and errands she needed to run. She thought about movies she had seen. She thought about Spanish class.

Yes, Spanish class. Cecelia started thinking of the tutorials Paul had given her. She thought about verbs, and nouns, and adjectives. Cecelia allowed herself to fall into a trance, waiting for Jason to finish. Her mind was filled with the colors of Spain, orange and yellow. The musical themes from the disk played in her imagination, sonorous trumpets and melodic guitars. She felt her pussy twitch and clench.

“Ahh” sputtered Jason atop of Cecelia. He quickened his pace, thinking he caused her reaction.

Trumpets and guitars, the narrator’s silky yet resonant voice rolling Spanish off of his tongue. So perfect sounding, a beautiful language, thought Cecelia. Her nipples again hardened, and her face flushed. Jason continued pounding.

Cecelia’s mind wandered to her own room. In it, Paul stood over her, naked, with his hard cock jutting out and quivering. She saw herself laying on her own bed, legs spread wide open, fingers scratching at the top of her pussy lips, coaxing a reaction out of her clit. In her fantasy, Paul climbed atop of her and slammed his hard cock into her. He placed both hands on either one of her large globular breasts, and started pounding away, in time with the real-life Jason.

The sterility and blandness of Jason’s lovemaking was gone. Cecelia opened her eyes and imagined Paul instead fucking her, pushing into her, sucking on her, grabbing at her hair. Cecelia felt naughty, but the naughtiness of imagining another man fuck her in her boyfriend’s stead fed her ecstasy.

Paul bent down and sucked on her tongue and lips. “Your cock is so hard!” cooed Cecelia. She stared into his eyes, satisfied to be so arousing to him, open and wet.

Jason quickened his pace inside of Cecelia. His cock twitched, and he slowed his pace dramatically as his cock shot its load deep into Cecelia in powerful salvos. His face contorted and an injurious sound emanated from his throat.

In Cecelia’s imagination, Paul blew his wad into her, and pushed his still hard cock even further into her sopping pussy. As if a button had been pushed deep within her by Paul’s’ erection and ejaculation, Cecelia felt her own climax explode through her body. She shrieked loudly, her legs spread wide, red-painted toes pointing toward the ceiling.

She felt the deflating cock slip out of her. She looked over to her side, seeing Jason.

“Damn, baby, that was good!” he commented with a sly grin on his face.

“Yeah, it was” answered Cecelia, plastering a faux smile on her face as she turned away from her boyfriend. Her pussy still convulsed, as she thought of her encounter just moments earlier.

Two days later, and the encounter at Jason’s house had traveled to the back of Cecelia’s mind.

Working for KZ Dynamics, or anywhere in the export car and parts business required a woman to maintain her appearance. Cecelia herself went to the tanning salon two times a week religiously. She made sure her skin and nails were impeccable. Her make-up was high quality, and she applied it with care.

Today was a Primping Day as the fellow export girls liked to call it. Cecelia and her co-worker Crystal were going to get a tan, get their French manicures redone, and get a pedicure. It was always a fun day for the girls.

Cecelia drove her Mustang to Crystal’s apartment to pick up the other girl. When she arrived, she saw that her curvaceous, tall blond friend was in the same attire as she: baggy sweats, hair tied up with a scrunchy, and flip-flops. Even though they were going to get beautiful, you never wanted to wear your best clothes when you’re just going to take them off before climbing into a tanning bed, or when getting your toenails painted.

Cecelia and Crystal climbed into the Mustang. When Cecelia turned the ignition key, Spanish talk radio came out of the speakers loudly.

“Turn that down!” insisted Crystal, covering her ears with the palms of her hands in mock pain.

Cecelia giggled, “Sorry.”

“Why are you listening to that anyway? Put in some Mel Miller.” requested the blond girl. Mel Miller was their favorite hunky guy singer.

“I’m practicing my Spanish, silly!” Cecelia rolled her eyes and smiled.

“You understand all that shit?” asked Crystal.

“Well, Paul has been giving me these CDs from a program that deals with Spanish. I’m telling you, they work! I can listen to anything in Spanish now, and at least get the gist of it. Before, I couldn’t understand anything!”

“Who the hell is Paul?” asked Crystal.

“A super-smart guy from my Spanish class. He’s the professor’s assistant. He speaks Spanish like a pro! Really smart.” Effused Cecelia.

“Does Jason know about this guy?

“Fuck Jason! What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Cecelia hadn’t talked to Jason much since his birthday.

The girls went to the tanning salon first. Each got their own bed, stripped out of their clothes, and fifteen minutes later were left with a maintaining bronze. Next stop was the nail salon. They each had their nails redone. They each received a pedicure, talking about their upcoming photo shoot for another poster with KZ. Cecelia knew that this time around it would not be knee-high boots, but those platform shoes with a clear, glass-like sole. The girls called them “stripper shoes’ and they each had a pair because they were always requested. Crystal had her toes painted a basic red, but this time Cecelia decided to have her toenails painted a dark blue. A change every so often is always good, she thought.

After the primping, both girls stopped off and ate some quick Chinese food. Back in the Mustang, Cecelia asked if they could stop by Paul’s.

“Why in God’s name for?!” exclaimed Crystal.

“I wanna see if he has another CD for me, maybe one I can listen to in my car. I have my midterm coming up this Friday and I need all the help I can get. Guitierrez is not happy with me.”

Crystal flopped her hands indifferently and the girls made their way to Paul’s house.

The afternoon was winding down when they made it to Paul’s front door. Paul’s front porch was immaculate except for a dilapidated lawn chair with a faded coffee can next to it. Crystal peered inside and saw that it was about a quarter full of cigarette butts. She looked at Cecelia with her tounge peering out of her lips and her nose crunched.

The door opened and Paul met Crystal and Cecelia. “Hey, what’s up?” he said. He seemed surprised to see Cecelia.

“Hey, Paul,” replied Cecelia. They entered his house. It was pretty clean for a guy’s house. Clean, but plain. He had no pictures on the wall. His furniture was clean, but a basic off-white. A baseball game was playing on the television set.

“I see that you got all dressed up for the occasion, Cecelia.” Said Paul.

“Oh, we were just doing some girl stuff,” answered Cecelia.

“Who’s this?” asked Paul, waving his hand inquisitively in Crystal’s direction.

“Paul, this is Crystal. Crystal – Paul. Paul is the guy I was telling you about, Crys. Crystal works with me, Paul.”

“So you make those sexy posters too, eh Crys?”

Crystal ignored the question, but Paul continued the topic with Cecelia. “Hey, you got any new posters I can have of you?”

Cecelia smiled flirtatiously, and rubbed Paul’s shoulder.” No, but we are having another photo shoot this Friday afternoon. I’ll try to get you one.”

Cecelia could feel Crystal’s wide-eyed glare at her, but she ignored it. She continued looking at Paul.

“Cool,” said Paul.” Stop by after the shoot and let me know how you did on the midterm.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of midterm,” replied the dark-haired Latina, “I don’t suppose you have one of those CDs that I can listen to in my car. They’ve been a big help!”

“Sure do. Let me get it for you.” Paul exited the conversation and walked to the back of the house. Crystal looked at Cecelia with a skeptical look on her face, pointing toward Paul. “What’s with this guy?” she mouthed silently. Cecelia turned away from her friend as Paul re-entered the room.

“Here’s a CD you can listen to in any CD player. It works best in small spaces. The quality is not the best. Sorry about that.”

“Thanks Paul!” Cecelia exclaimed, and gave Paul a big hug, crushing her large, round breasts into his chest. “If I get a good grade in this class, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Oh, you’ll get a good grade. I guarantee it. Stop by here and let me know how things turned out after you get off of work on Friday.”

“OK” said Cecelia, biting her lip. Paul walked the two girls to the front door, and closed it behind them.

Outside, Crystal pulled at Cecelia’s arm and questioned her. “What was that all about?!” she asked.

“All what?”

“You looked like you wanted to molest him! What would Jason say about this?”

“Who cares?! It’s all innocent. He’s a nice guy. I don’t know why you’re in such a huff,” retorted Cecelia.

Both girls drove silently back to Crystal’s apartment. After dropping the blond girl off, Cecelia put Paul’s latest CD into her car’s player, and listened all the way home.

Cecelia spent the next few days listening to the tutorial every night. It was extremely helpful, and always left her feeling assured in her improving Spanish skills. She also felt quite relaxed and stress-free after listening to the tutorial.

She played the CD in her car often during the succeeding days. It made her feel confident and appreciative that Paul was so nice to her. She thought she might be developing a slight crush on the man. Her mind often wandered to him. For two straight nights, she had had vivid dreams of him, licking her pussy, her legs splayed in the air, rocking with each swipe of his tongue.

Friday arrived, and Cecelia was nervous about the midterm. Forty percent of her grade rested on this test. Gutierrez must not be one for grading, she thought in response to the scant amount of graded assignments.

The midterm turned out to be eighty multiple-choice questions and a twenty-point essay. It was not taken in the regular classroom, but instead was administered in a computer lab. Half of the multiple-choice questions were related to segments of printed Spanish newspaper articles. The second half of the multiple-choice section was listening comprehension. Small sound bites on various topics played in the computer lab’s headphones. This is so easy, thought Cecelia, all that studying really helped. The essay portion of the test discussed a couple going shopping for clothes. The man stated that he liked his blue shoes, and wanted a brown pair just like them. Cecelia’s pussy became warm.

After the test, Cecelia wanted to tell Paul how well she felt she did on the test. She felt like she aced it! But Paul was not in the room at the time. It was only the professor, sitting quietly at the desk in the front of the room, and the other students.

Later that night, the manager from KZ called. She was going to need the stripper shoes after all. As the standard, the flashy outfits would be at the photo shoot. The best things about these shoots, thought Cecelia, were the outfits. Sure, they were sometimes racy, but they were allowed to keep them afterward, and they contributed to Cecelia’s monstrously large wardrobe.

Cecelia showed up to the KZ Dynamics warehouse in a baggy pair of khakis, a white blouse, and her clear-soled heels. When she, Crystal, and the rest of the girls exited the dressing room, however, they were all in shimmering blue blouses and skin-tight black cotton skirts.

The car featured in the shoot was a red Viper with a white stripe painted along both sides. The stripes had a gray border that gave it a shadow effect. KZ’s logo, as well as logos of numerous other products, were stuck and painted on the car. Cecelia and the other four girls all posed provocatively around the vehicle. Sometimes the cameraman instructed them to smile; sometimes he wanted a pout. They cocked their hips and flung their manes of hair. The cameraman had Cecelia sit on the hood of the car, smile, and stretch her curvaceous legs while holding her head up with her hand.

The shoot took two hours. “Hey, you wanna go to Mino’s?” asked Jennifer, an auburn-haired girl, after the shoot. Mino’s was a nearby bar that they often went to for margaritas and salsa dip.

“No,” responded Cecelia, “I have to get going.”

Cecelia jumped in her car. She was still in her photo shoot outfit, but she was unconcerned. She wanted to find Paul and gush to him about her performance on the midterm. She sped toward his house in her white Mustang.

When she arrived, it was dark outside. Paul’s neighborhood was somewhat seedy compared to her ritzy apartment. She saw that his porch light was on. She approached cautiously, and found Paul sitting on the worn-down lawn chair, smoking a cigarette. He appeared nervous.

“Whoa, look at you!” he exclaimed. He quickly snuffed out his cigarette into the coffee can, and stood up. “Let’s go in before someone sees you.”

Inside the house, Cecelia embraced Paul with a hug, standing on her tiptoes to push her breasts into his chest even more. It felt good to her. Paul returned the embrace apprehensively.

Cecelia stepped back down to a normal position, but left her hands on Paul’s hips. “Paul, you don’t know how happy I am! I think I aced the test!”

“I know you aced it. I saw the grades. You got a 95%! I saw Gutierrez’s grade sheet.”

“Oh Paul!” she jumped happily, as much as possible in her heels. She hugged Paul fully, and looked up at his face. His lips were so close, and before she knew it, they were kissing. Cecelia let out a soft moan into Paul’s mouth.

Cecelia and Paul stood there in the middle of the living room necking, tongues dueling and ticking. Cecelia could taste Paul’s cigarette breath. She could also feel his raging erection. Paul broke off the kiss, “Let me lock the door.”

Paul walked to the front door, his erection pointing obscenely out of his sweatpants. He returned to Cecelia, grabbed her hand, and led her to his bedroom. Paul stood her at the side of his bed and bent down on one knee to remove her thong panties.

He slipped his hands under her black skirt, wrapped his fingers underneath the thin band of elastic, and pulled them down her hips slowly. They fell, and wrapped round her ankles. Cecelia looked down motionless as Paul caressed her long, toned legs and ass for several moments, hands traveling under her skirt, and rubbing her ass and thighs.

Paul guided Cecelia onto the edge of his bed. She pulled her legs up, panties dropping to the floor. Her legs splayed widely in the air, toes facing the ceiling. Just like in my dream, she thought. Paul pushed her skirt up just enough onto her waist to give a naked view of her wet, bald pussy. He gathered some moisture in his own mouth, and then licked Cecelia slowly, deliberately, from the bottom of her snatch to the top. Cecelia giggled and shuddered, a large smile on her face.

Paul proceeded to lick Cecelia’s pussy using a variety of techniques. Cecelia was surprised at his variations. He would lick the sides of her lips, and then suddenly suck hard on her clit. He would flick the clit with his tongue, and then give another slow lap over her entire area. Cecelia came twice.

After the second time, Paul stood up, his hard cock straining under his sweats. He grabbed Cecelia’s hands and gently pulled her to her feet. They started removing her clothing. When just her heels remained, Cecelia went to step out of them. “Leave them on,” He ordered, and she complied.

Cecelia laid atop of Paul’s bed, and spread her legs expectantly. Paul remained in his spot and hurriedly removed his own clothes. He climbed between her legs, and fed his cock into her pussy.

For several hours, they fucked hard. Cecelia’s cell phone rang twice, but she did not answer. It turned out to be an inquisitive Crystal and Jason.

One month later, Cecelia thought about how quickly things had moved for Paul and her. Shortly after the midterm, she was spending more and more nights with him, until eventually he cleared his entire closet out and suggested she move in. With much consternation from her parents and friends, she happily agreed.

She knew that things were over with Jason after her first night with Paul. Things have a natural end, she thought. When she confronted her now ex-boyfriend about breaking up, he flipped out, punching a wall. “Fucking bitch!” he screamed. What an asshole, she thought.

Paul turned out to be a voracious lover. He liked to have sex anytime, anywhere. They had sex in her Mustang, parked in the school parking lot. Every night, Paul would slide into the bed next to her, his cock rock-hard, ready to fuck. A couple of times, Cecelia was applying her make-up in the morning, naked, looking in the bathroom mirror. Paul came up behind her, naked himself, grabbed her breasts, bent her over the sink, and fucked her brains out from behind. She wasn’t used to this with Jason.

Cecelia would give Paul posters from her photo shoots and Paul would tape them to the bedroom wall. He said he liked to see his sexy girl at work. Eventually, Cecelia landed some jobs posing for car magazines. Paul always wanted her to model her outfits after her shoots. One day, on a whim, she spent several hours just modeling all of her car show outfits and sexy clothes for Paul. They fucked in between changes when Paul couldn’t handle the tension anymore, and again after all of her clothes were displayed.

On Paul’s advice, Cecelia decided to major in Spanish. It turns out I’m pretty good at it, she would say to herself. Paul said that he would always make sure that she had superb study materials, and he would use all of his knowledge to help her excel.

The night of the final exam, Paul and Cecelia were lounging around the living room. Cecelia was in a red silk teddy, something from a past Christmas modeling gig, rubbing moisturizer into her legs and arms. She knew that Paul loved her skin smooth and soft. Paul was in his usual relaxed attire of t-shirt and sweatpants. Out of the blue, he asked Cecelia, “Hey don’t you and Crystal like that guy Mel Miller?”

“Yes, sweetie, why?”

“Wait a minute and I’ll show you.” Paul went to the back room. He returned with two CDs. “I bought you his newest CD, and I burned a copy for Crystal. Maybe it’ll make her lighten up with me.”

Paul sat beside his sexy girlfriend. Cecelia gave him a soft kiss on the lips “I’m sure she’ll love it, Paul.” she said smiling.