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Subject: Story: Stalker (mc, hyp, mast, fd, mf, cons?) <*>
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Stalker (mc, hyp, mast, fd, mf, cons?)
Copyright 1998 by Chew Toy (wellgnawed@hotmail.com)

                   WARNING: The usual disclaimers and warnings
   apply.  The characters in this story have sex; if that offends you
   or for some reason you are Not Allowed to read about such things,
   stop now.  The events in this story might not be moral or even
   possible; the point is to give you a hot fantasy, not a blueprint
   for life.

  *********

 It's strange being stalked by someone you like.  Stranger still, when you
frequently meet them but can never remember.

  I was in this odd situation because of a fling I had at a recent SF
convention.  An unusual sort of fling: the cute babe I'd been ogling turned
out to be into hypnosis.  I don't even remember exactly what we did together.
Well, OK, I remember some things.  Enough to know it was a fun fling.

  But I have a girlfriend, with whom I share an apartment and am very much
in love.  Meg has always been my dream girl.  A brief torrid fling when we're
apart is all very nice-- it's even allowed, under our ground rules, as long as
it's torrid and I give Meg a blow-by-blow afterwards-- but I have no desire
for another relationship.

  But every now and then, invariably when Meg isn't home, I get a phone call
that goes something like this (as best I can remember):

  *Ring*  "Hello?"

  "Hello.  Is this a wrong number?"

  "Huh?"

  "John, go into trance for me now..."

  "Five, completely awake now."  *Click*

  And then I find that I'm standing in the hallway wearing only a telephone...
with a pile of clothes on the floor and a bit of a mess to clean up.

  I'm not sure whether it's incredibly sexy or incredibly weird.  I think it's
both.

  Ok, it's very sexy.  I've always been turned on by the idea of a beautiful
woman dominating my mind with hypnosis.   Or maybe even an ugly woman
making me *think* she's beautiful-- that much control by itself is sexy.

  But the terrible part is, I can't tell Meg.  It's not that I don't want
to-- I really want to!	I'm finally in a relationship where it's OK to have a
fling on the side and the only price is I have to *tell* my lover about it.
Men dream of this.  And the whole stalking-with-hypnosis thing is right up
Meg's alley. It's the sort of thing she might do-- she hypnotises me a lot.
I *want* to tell her.

  But every time I try, I find that instead I've gotten up to get something
from the fridge, or run to the bathroom, or suddenly I have a terrible urge
to balance my checkbook.  Once I left to walk the dog.	We don't have a dog.
I got as far as the front door before Meg asked me where I was going with
that leash.

  (I think I covered well.  Now she sometimes offers to get out the leash
when she's feeling particularly romantic.  But I digress.)

  The point is, I'm unable to tell her.  The closest I ever got, I found that
suddenly I was unable to speak at all.  The woman from the convention must
have given me some sort of post-hypnotic command.

  I really want to be honest with my girlfriend, and I just *can't*.  Isn't
that perverse?



  I met her over lunch the other day, downtown.  Actually, it might not have
been downtown; I remember giving the cab driver directions, but I have no
idea what I said to him.  It didn't really occur to me that this was not my
usual lunchtime habit until I'd paid him and started walking into the hotel.

  Of course, I can't remember the name of the hotel.

  Around then I started to suspect what was going on.  But it was too late to
stop it.  No matter how I tried, in fact, I couldn't keep my feet from
walking me up the stairs and down the hall to the room whose number was
blazing in my mind.  I was almost able to keep myself from knocking, but my
right arm is stronger than my left and it won out in the end.  I knocked on
the door.

  And she opened it.  Sasha, the cute goth chick I had so foolishly hit on at
the convention.  My psycho hypno stalker babe from Hell.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Hi," I said, trying my damnedest to be mad instead of horny.  "What am I
doing here?"

  "Did you come all this way just to see me?" she asked, "That's so nice!  You
know how I've always wanted to have a quickie at lunch time in a downtown
hotel room!  Come on in and close the door."

  "Are we downtown?" I asked.

  She smiled.  "*Now*, John," she said, looking me in the eye.  I came in and
closed the door.

  "Don't you take that tone of voice with me, young lady," I said, suppressing
a shiver and looking down at the carpet, avoiding her eye.

  "Or else what?"

  "Or else I'll do whatever you tell me,"  I finished, shivering.

  "*Really*?"  She put a finger under my chin and nudged my face up until my
eyes met hers.

  Horny won a decisive victory over mad.

  "Kneel," Sasha said quietly.

  I knelt.  Where I had been standing, just inside the room, I was now fenced
in by the bed, the dresser... and Sasha.

  She put her foot up on the bed.

  "Wouldn't you like to kiss my ankle?" said Sasha.

  I would.  Actually, suddenly it was all I could think about.	I remember
when I was a kid, hearing a line from an old song about flashing a bit of
ankle and thinking, what's the deal?  Ankles aren't sexy.  But Sasha's was.
It was the sexiest, most desirable thing in the world.	Reverently, I brushed
it with my lips.

  "Mm, nice," said Sasha.  "Keep going... up my leg."

  I moved my lips higher.  Feeling the soft hairs of her leg made me want to
brush my cheek against them, and I slowly kissed and nuzzled my way up her
calf towards her inner thigh.  The slit of her skirt fell open above her knee,
and she hiked her skirt up further for me as my lips moved up her leg.  The
smell of her perfume grew stronger, reminding me of... I couldn't think what
it reminded me of, but whatever it was, it made me feel extremely horny.
And submissive.

  Her perfume grew muskier, and suddenly I knew what her rising skirt was
about to reveal.

  "Mmmm... wouldn't you like to taste me now, John?"

  I couldn't see what had happened to her skirt, but it didn't matter.	All
that mattered was the salty, musky taste of her pussy in my mouth.  The scent
of her surrounded me as she pushed her hips forward, burying my nose in her
flesh.	My nose was wet with the scent of her, as I ran my tongue up the
furrow between her lips, gently licking her clit.

  "Aaaaah!"  Sasha shrieked.  I licked her clit some more.

  "Aaaaah!  Oh!  Yes!  Oh!  Yes!  Oh!" she yelled, thrusting her hips forward
with
each yell, smashing my nose into her over and over.  I desperately followed
her body with my tongue, trying to continue to please her as she thrashed
against me.

  "Aaoh!  Aaoh!  AH!hhhh..."  Her last yell drew an echo from the walls.  Then
she slumped, and gently pushed my head away from her crotch.

  "Oh... mmm.  Meg certainly has you well-trained," she said.  "Oh, it's hot
in here."  She casually pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it on
the floor.

  Happy but still horny, I watched with interest.  I did remember that Sasha
has delightful breasts, and doesn't like bras.  Sure enough, her perky nipples
were immediately visible.  And between her breasts, a flash of red...

  My eyes locked on the beautiful crystal hanging on a necklace between her
breasts.  It looked familiar... so pretty as it caught the light...

  "Whew!  Much better.  Now-- what's-- oh, I see, my necklace.  You like that,
don't you?"

  "Yes..." I breathed.  Hard to think about anything...

  "John, ..."



  I was walking down a city street.  What was I doing?	Oh, right, coming
back from lunch.  I walked into the building and took the elevator to my
floor.

  Just as I reached my desk, the phone rang.  I picked it up.  "John here."

  "Hello, John," said a familiar female voice, and my cock stirred instantly
at the sound.  I listened to her speak for a few minutes, breathed "Yes...",
then
hung up.  I had to come, now.  I headed for the men's room.

  It wasn't until I came to my senses in the men's room stall, holding my cock
and a wad of semen-soaked toilet paper, that I realized I was missing my
underwear.  And wondering where they had gone, I started to remember the
hotel...


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