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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Control Chip by Rachael Ross (M/f, SciFi, MC, Petting)
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Date: Sun, 30 May 2010 10:10:03 -0400
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The Losing Control Chip
Copyright 2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved rache696@yahoo.com
Adults Only
http://www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm
Old time porn without the annoying plot, character development, or
structure to distract the casual reader...If you're not here to beat
off, go somewhere else. -rr

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

From the Porn Classics section of Barne's & Noble...
Sexy Science Projects!

Synopsis: When sixteen-year-old Maria agrees to let one of her
teachers experiment on her, the naive cheerleader thinks it'll be a
quick hundred bucks that her mom doesn't know about...It turns out to
be a little bit more than that though.
Codes: M/f, SciFi, MC, Petting

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Control Chip



After the Professor put the control chip in my head, things really got
out of hand!

"How do you feel, Maria?" he asked gently, helping me sit up and I
felt a little...

"Dizzy," I said weakly, reaching behind my neck and upward until I
felt the small bandage.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." I shook my head. "There isn't going to be a scar, right?"

"Not at all," he assured me with a smile. "Once the incision heals, in
a week or so, you won't even know it's there."

"I hope so." I tried to smile back, but I still worried just a little.
I had dreams of being a model someday and a scar, even a tiny one,
wouldn't help me at all.

"Do you want to try it out?" the Professor asked, or suggested more
like as he tried to hide his enthusiasm. Even so, he had the eyes of a
sixty year old child on Christmas morning and his usually sallow face
seemed lit with the healthy glow of anticipation.

"Is it working already?" I turned on the examination table, letting my
legs dangle beneath my yellow cheer skirt. I'd come by the clinic
right after practice and mostly I just wanted the hundred dollars he'd
promised me.

"It should be," he said with a nod. "Let's try, hmmm?"

"Okay." I shrugged. "But then I have to get home or my mom will freak
out."

"Right, right," he agreed absently as he'd already started playing
with the remote control.

That's what I called it anyway. The Professor called it the Cerebral
Interface Unit, which seemed like way too much name to me. The thing
looked like a skinny remote control for a television.

"You're a very pretty girl, Maria," the Professor said softly and I
blinked at him. "Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?"

"Excuse me?" I almost laughed because the Professor had always been so
proper with me, almost formal the way most of my teachers were. I knew
I was pretty, and I knew men liked to look at me, but to be told
something like that out of the blue, especially by a man old enough to
be my grandpa...

"Kiss me," he suggested and I didn't know exactly why, but for some
reason I wanted to kiss the Professor more than anything else in the
world just then.

It wasn't just some sort of command that I had to follow. That's the
important thing, see? I didn't just have to kiss him, I wanted to. I
felt every emotion imaginable, the ones any girl would feel when she
knows she's about to do something exciting. Something sorta dangerous
too, maybe.

What if he's teasing me, I wondered. What if the Professor rejects me?
What if I don't kiss him the way he likes? What if he laughs at me? My
heart would be broken and I felt so frightened, so nervous that I
thought I was gonna puke! But I didn't.

"Can I kiss you, Professor?" I whispered, feeling the room about a
hundred degrees warmer than it had been a moment before.

My heart was pounding beneath my heaving breasts. My skin felt damp,
my fingers itched and my legs felt numb, my knees rubbery as I pushed
myself off the table and onto the floor to stand near him. I couldn't
breathe and my mouth seemed too dry as I licked my lips and tried to
meet his gaze. The tightness in my tummy moved lower, between my
thighs, and I felt a thin wave of pleasure wash through my sex, the
walls of my pussy contracting against the emptiness inside. My nipples
burned and I wanted to press my hands against my tits and ease the
discomfort somehow.

"Of course you can," he answered, smiling down at me from beneath his
bushy grey brows and an unkempt shock of silver hair.

He seemed taller somehow, even handsome, although I'd never thought so
before. The Professor had always been old and something like a piece
of furniture in my life. I'd never appreciated his personality before.
I'd never regarded him as a man with dreams and feelings and desires.
I'd ignored everything that made him a person and imagined he meant
nothing to me other than good grades at school and a little extra
spending money for letting him put a sliver of metal under my skin.

It wouldn't hurt, the Professor had promised. It would only take a few
minutes and I'd have a hundred dollars that my parents knew nothing
about. I could buy a thong and a sexy bra, something grown up and sexy
that my mother would never approve of. Not for any real reason, except
that's what I wanted and how I'd ended up agreeing. And it wouldn't
hurt, he'd said, but the Professor had lied. I hurt now, inside as I
stepped closer, and my hands shook when I brought them to his chest. I
ached for him and if he turned me away, if he disliked me for some
reason, I'd die from the pain.

"I've never kissed a man," I confessed breathlessly, hoping against
hope that the Professor would forgive my innocence.

"Shhh..." he sighed, reaching for my hips as I pressed my body against
his.

I seemed too small for this, too young perhaps, but my need pushed
those doubts away. I stood five foot nothing in my Skechers and my
head barely reached his chest. My hands slid upward, across the soft
fabric of his Izod polo shirt. It was taupe, like the Professor's
eyes, I thought, the color of ashes and snow falling in the cold light
of the setting sun. I loved his eyes and I searched them with mine as
I held his shoulders and kissed his chest. My breasts were against his
stomach, my hips against his thighs, and I imagined I could feel his
arousal against my own soft tummy.

He breathed deeply through his nose and his gnarled fingers went
around me until the Professor held my firm butt in his hands. I moaned
with the pleasure of being held that way, of being squeezed and pulled
tightly against him. The old man's cock was swollen in his trousers
and I rubbed my belly against him, unable to help myself. I wished we
were naked so I could feel his bare flesh on mine. I yearned to know
how that felt, to writhe in a man's strong arms and feel his strength
covering me like a warm blanket.

My blonde hair had fallen across my face and I shook my head, urging
him to take me then. My rosy lips were parted, my pink tongue inviting
him to explore my mouth. My eyes were half closed, lidded with all the
dusky passion the fertile imagination of a child could conjure. I felt
like a newborn in the Professor's arms. He was so much older than me,
older than my father, even my grandfather perhaps, but I loved him
anyway. With all of my heart and soul; and every fiber of my being
belonged to him forever...All he had to do was kiss me.

When the Professor's lips found mine, I exploded with the first real
orgasm of my life. I gasped and would have fallen completely if he
hadn't been holding me so well and tight. I clung to the man as if my
life depended on it and welcomed his patient tongue eagerly. I opened
wider and met him between my teeth, petting the Professor's soft
muscle and exploring that sweet intruder as he entered my body for the
very first time.

We were making love, it seemed to me, and I was cumming. My panties
were wet with my juices and unable to contain the flood that spilled
down my thighs. The trembling within my sex seemed unbearable and I
wanted to be filled there as well. My virginity had become a useless
thing, an ideal I no longer shared. I had it in mind to beg the
Professor to take it from me. I'd make a gift of my childhood to him
and be relieved of that curious burden. But no words would issue from
my throat, nothing but the soft sighs and desperate mewlings that
accompanied our kiss.

And what a kiss! The Professor's tongue bathed in our saliva as I
played my own against it. He caressed the hollows of my cheeks and
tickled the roof of my mouth. He suckled my bottom lip and bit me
until I began to shiver and whimper with delight. I didn't know how to
kiss, but the Professor would prove himself my teacher in all things.
I flushed with the pleasure of his attentions and after several brief
minutes I chased him into his mouth.

I French kissed the Professor carefully, slowly at first, with a
tentative fear that I'd somehow ruin the experience. That hardly
lasted long, however, and soon I began to explore his mouth with
abandon. I thrust my tongue inside as deeply as possible, flicking the
tip over and around every part of the man I could find. Whatever my
first real kiss lacked in style, I made up for it with the purity of
my eager lust.

The orgasm I'd enjoyed hadn't really gone away; it lingered in the pit
of my tummy and pushed me to try and pull myself upward. I wanted to
feel the Professor's cock against my pussy, if only through the layers
of clothing that stood between us. I needed to feel something. The
thrumming of my clitoris became almost painful and the wetness in my
panties only reminded me that I wanted more. My own greasy juices
weren't enough. I wanted to feel him inside me and be joined that way,
to combine our release in the depths of my womb.

He'd be my first, I told him silently; my only lover and the keeper of
secrets. I wanted the Professor to mark me with his seed and spoil me
for other men. No one else would ever possess me so completely. After
him, every man who ever fucked me would be a shadow in my heart,
lacking the substance of true love. There would be a part of me
forever denied all others and he would know and understand that, I
thought. He would be proud to own me in that way, in the secret that
could be shared only once and forever.

"Make love to me," I moaned as we finally broke our kiss for no other
reason than the desperate need to breathe.

"Ohhhh..." he exhaled slowly, pushing me away even as I tried to pull
myself closer.

"I love you," I told him. "I want you, Professor. Please?"

"Maria..." He smiled, squeezing my hips and definitely pushing me
back. "I think, um..."

"Inside me," I whispered, letting go reluctantly and only because I
had to.

I started pulling my top off, thinking that's why the Professor had
pushed me away. He wished to see me undressed and I felt so warm. The
cool air washed over my skin as I turned my sweater inside out over my
head. I shook my golden hair free, arching my back and drawing my
breasts taut and upright, my belly inward and hollow beneath his gaze.

"...I think it works just fine," he continued, reaching for his back
pocket.

"What do you mean?" I giggled, forgetting all about the remote control
and the chip in my head, and everything except the Professor.

"We should stop, I think, and...um..." He seemed to be speaking to himself
and I struggled to understand that the man was rejecting me as I stood
there in my bra and skirt.

"Stop?" I felt my heart stutter and my stomach grow tight with fear.
"Don't you like me?"

I looked down at myself. I was too short, I thought. That's why the
Professor didn't like me. Too short and too skinny maybe. My tits were
nice, not really big, but nice enough probably. They were better than
my narrow hips anyway and Daddy teased me about my tomboy body
sometimes, but not so much anymore. Still...I hated being sixteen and
worried that I'd already finished growing as much as I ever would, and
now the Professor hated me!

How could a man like the Professor ever love someone like me? He was
over sixty years old and he knew everything. The Professor had spent a
lifetime growing smart and wise; he knew things I couldn't even
imagine yet. When he looked at me, he saw a little girl, that's all. I
was just a kid and what could we ever share together, a man like him
and a child like me? It was so unfair. I hated myself then, I really
did and I'd never felt so ashamed and embarrassed in my entire life.

"You hate me!" I shouted without thinking and my eyes started filling
with tears. I clutched my top to my chest, trying to hide the betrayal
of my teenage body behind it.

"What? Maria!" He smiled patiently and I looked down, unwilling to be
pitied that way. "I don't hate you at all. I'm just...old. I'm married
and..."

"I don't care about any of that!" I said, looking up with a hopeful
smile. "I love you, Professor!"

"And I'm very fond of you," he said, thumbing some buttons on his
remote control.

"What?" I swallowed hard and looked down at my golden cheer top and
only vaguely remembered taking it off.

"Are you alright Maria?" the Professor asked, narrowing his eyes at me
and I nodded slowly.

"I...think so." I swallowed hard. "Did you...I mean, did we...kiss? Or
something?"

"Kissing?" He chuckled softly and smoothed his shirt which looked
somewhat rumpled. "What do you remember?"

"I remember...kissing..." I said slowly, afraid to look into his eyes, "...
like a dream, kinda...except...I remember..."

"Remember what?" he asked.

"Everything," I whispered. "Oh God! What did you make me do?"

The Professor didn't seem to know how to answer that and I really
didn't want an answer anyway, to tell the truth. I wanted to forget
all about it! I'd been kissing a man old enough to be my grandfather
and telling him I loved him and begging him to have sex with me and...
God! I turned around and started putting my top back on. How could I
ever even look at him again? What if someone found out? My parents, my
friends...Chad? The guy I really liked at school. If anyone ever learned
that I'd been making out with the Professor, my life would be over!

"Here..." the Professor cleared his throat and opened his wallet, "...
that, uh...hundred dollars I promised you."

He held out a hundred dollar bill and I stared at it for a second,
thinking I should be saying something. I should be doing something too
maybe, like...I didn't know what. Throwing a fit or breaking stuff, or
just being really mad, but I didn't do any of that and he added a
fifty dollar bill. I felt kind of raped, actually, except my panties
were soaked with girl cum. As I took the money, kind of swiping the
bills out of his bony fingers, I felt like a prostitute as well. A
whore who had been raped, sorta. So you'll understand why I left
quickly and without another word.

I wanted to be alone for awhile.


The End

Sexy Science Projects! is a publication of BFG Productions licensed
and distributed by Severe Discipline Heavy Industries and co-sponsor
of the Sexual Jihad. For subscription information close your eyes and
think real hard. If you enjoyed this story, you should save it to your
hard drive immediately - this file will be removed without warning at
the FBI's convenience.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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