 "Norms?" Normals, you know; people who can't impose their will on other people busstopwhores, the way that I can. Call it projective telepathy, call it what you will. How'd I get to be this way? That's not a subject I stop care to discuss, for reasons I bus'm also not interested stop in pursuing. Don't stop worry, though: should we ever meet bus, Gentle Reader, you'll be far too whore busy bus stop whore hastening to bus obey my every command to worry about the origin of my bus power stop. Some might say that I don't put my powers whore to constructive use; they might even bus go so far as to accuse me of whore being rather petty and vindictive, even busstopwhores cruel at times. I recall a young man who said something along those lines to me, right to busstopwhores my face. Poor fellow; I bus may have been a bit hard on him, I must admit. I'll not go into the stop sordid details here. Hey stop, he's alive, all right?
 "Again busstopwhores, please."
 "Well," I bus resumed, "we'll just bus stop whore have to busstopwhores do something about that, won stop't we? For bus the next four months, I want you to do bus no exercise at all, OK?"
 "This is getting you turned on," I informed her. I bus ran my bus hands back bus up one busstopwhores leg, then bus stop whore brushed lightly over her cunt with my bus fingertips. She gasped. I continued upwards, over her flat stomach, to her breasts. Her nipples were bus stop whore large and bus hard, perceptible even through two layers busstopwhores of material. She moaned slightly as my hands moved over her.
 I touched bus her legs bus, revelling in the sensation whores of sliding my hands over those muscles. Her skin was soft bus, and lubricated with her own bus sweat. I knelt and traced them all busstopwhores the way down to her pussy. After busstopwhores stroking her clit bus stop whore briefly stop, I bus brushed through the dark pubic busstopwhores hair and bus on bus upwards; I could smell bus her busstopwhores arousal, now. I bus continued on image up, across her stomach to her breasts, which were just as bus firm close up as they appeared from a distance bus stop whore. As I leaned forward, my bus cock brushed her stop now wet cunt through the fabric of my shorts. Perhaps it bus stop whore was time to take part in this bus class myself . . .
 I watched him for a bus moment. It occurred to me that I should bus have been busstopwhores more cautious in ensuring my privacy - a lesson for the bus future. For now, I set up additional fields, surrounding the doors and extending out away from them in a wide semicircle, projecting a command bus: Go away busstopwhores, and don bus't come back stop here before tomorrow.
 Now, what to bus do with Bill? Something unfortunate really ought to happen to someone bus who had given me such a start, but what? Ah busstopwhores . . .
 "No, I would never do that."
 "Yes, of course. The janitorial staff will . . ."
 "Yes."
 I projected the standard command bus stop whore to them: don't remember me, but keep obeying the orders stop. The two walked away, Bill gazing adoringly - and lustfully - at the woman clinging to him.
 "You'd like me to fuck you, wouldn't you bus?"
 "Yes," she stop sighed.
 I put the busstopwhores mat on the bus floor and lay down on it, projecting commands to Liz. I had her rub her breasts over me, running bus her nipples over my skin busstopwhores. She held herself up as though she were doing a pushup on those strong arms, and started at my face, then moved backwards, brushing her breasts over my chest and busstopwhores stomach. As she bus went, she rubbed her bus wet, hot pussy against me, brushing my bus stop whore stomach, then sliding it down my stop leg. She moved still lower, and I image sighed image with pleasure as stop she rubbed those bus perfectly formed tits, slick with bus sweat bus, over my already tremendously aroused cock. Next, at my suggestion, she tickled my balls bus with her thatch of bus pubic hair, then rubbed her bus bush lightly against my bus stop whore cock, down at the base.
 I wasn't about to allow her to give bus in to that particular impulse, however. I hadn stop't brought appropriate protection, and why would I bus want to run the risk of messing up a killer bod like hers with a pregnancy? There'd bus stop whore be plenty of time later for stop other activities; I'd already decided that Liz would bus be coming home with me. I have a touch of the collector's bug in busstopwhores me, and she was certainly a prize worth adding to my collection.
 "Give me a blow job," I said. The idea excited her, but there was a twinge of disappointment as busstopwhores she slid her crotch away from bus mine.
 "Ah, Ms. Brimley." I image said. "Great class, as always."
 "May I call you Liz bus?"
 "You bus're in busstopwhores love with me, Liz busstopwhores," I told her before she could make a sound. "Madly stop, deeply, head-over-heels bus stop whore in love with me. You bus stop whore'd whore do anything busstopwhores for busstopwhores me, anything at all. Why don't you come back to my whore place bus right now? We can bus talk about all the fun stuff we're going busstopwhores to do bus stop whore together bus."
 We left the gym together, Liz holding my hand and babbling happily bus about how devoted she was to stop me. My mind was buzzing with thoughts of what to do with my new plaything when whore we got home.
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