The M Chronicles

"Read it out loud," he said. I began to read.

Hannah's Story:

It was my junior year in college. I needed a part-time job to help cover my expenses. After my psychology class, I was telling Alexis about wanting to work somewhere. I guess my professor overheard us, because he said he was looking for an assistant for a special experiment. Alexis told me I should go for it. She winked at me; something she never had done before.

"What's involved?" I asked.

"It's a bit of a confidential experiment," he replied, "but you will be perfect for it. Can you come to my house this Saturday?"

"Your house?"

"Yes, I'll email you the address. Come around one in the afternoon. And, plan to stay for a few hours."

Before I could ask any more questions or even find out what the pay was, he headed off down the hall. I looked at Alexis. She had a strange smile on her face, and told me it would be all right.

I arrived at his house at the appointed time. He answered the door and welcomed me in, leading me into the living room. It was tastefully furnished with a large sofa off to the side, facing the center of the room. There were two side chairs on either side of a large fireplace with a carved mantle. The windows were covered by heavy velvet curtains, allowing no light into the room. On either side of the fireplaces, bookshelves housed volumes of leather-bound books. There was a lamp with a Tiffany shade on a round table next to one of the chairs. It was the only light in the room.

The professor indicated I should sit in one of the chairs and he took the other. "Hannah, I'm sure you have many questions. I will not be answering them. There is one question, however, that you will answer yourself."

"What is it?"

"In time, dear, in time. I've observed you for a while. You're obviously very smart, yet, at times you hesitate to raise your hand or speak out. You could be shy, of course, but I think it's more than that. Look at how you dress."

I crossed one leg over the other and fidgeted as the professor fixed his eyes on me and slowly gazed at my body as I sat.

"You are quite beautiful, and yet you wear clothes that do nothing to expose the beauty. You wear skirts, when most of the others wear tight jeans or shorts. I've seen you in your rowing costume. You have an exquisite derriere and elegant long legs. No one can detect those attributes behind your skirt. Often you will have a sweater or sweatshirt on top. I think you want to disguise your chest. Are you ashamed of your breasts? Do you think them too small? Hannah, I will tell you that your breasts are perfect. Have I seen them? No. But I have, again, seen you at regattas and it is evident that your breasts are worthy of admiration. So, you are beautiful, yet you hide it."

I touched the collar of my blouse that was buttoned up to my throat. I knew my bra and panties could be described as something an old woman would wear. I squirmed in my seat as the professor spoke. I didn't think he should be talking to me in this way. He hit a tender spot. I am reluctant to call attention to myself, whether in class or in my appearance. In private I long to be more flamboyant and to show more of myself, but I continue to fall back into the shadows.

"Your face is that of a painting by a master. The delicate skin, so quick to blush, begs for a caress. The color of your eyes...well, they defy description. One moment they're green, then hazel, then brown. I have often lost my train of thought in class when I catch you looking at me, and I see your eyes. When you wear your hair down, something rare I regret to say, it makes one want to run his fingers through it over and over again."

I touched my hair, held in a tight bun. My blush spread from my face to my chest, not that the professor could see it behind my blouse and cardigan sweater. I wondered what his long fingers would feel like as they moved along my head. Would he touch my neck? I'm so sensitive there, and would those fingers see how warm I was?

"So, there is shyness, but there is much more, my dear, much, much more. You try to hide it, but there is heat inside you. Oh, you can shake your head, but your body does not lie. You think no one notices, but I do. You moved where you sat on the first class. Now, you sit near that tall, boy with the long hair. He excites you. Don't shake your head, Hannah; I see how your eyes grow dark when you look at him. Your nostrils flare and you rub your thighs together. Even under your skirt, I know what you are doing. I imagine you must be quite wet at those times. You have such heat and you go to such lengths to deny it."

"Professor, I don't think this is appropriate. I should go now." His words burned into me. I wanted to flee, to regain the protection of my dorm room, yet I lingered. Professors should not be speaking to students in this way, but I was affected by him. He was right, I did get wet looking at Lincoln, the boy with the long hair. What shocked me even more was not that the professor knew of my excitement in class, but that I was dripping wet right now.

"You are free to leave at any time. I think, though, that you want to stay. No one has seen you as I have. You are intrigued. You are excited. You want to know what the "question" is."

I wanted to stand and run out of that house. I wanted to tell him he knew nothing about me. I wanted to prove he was completely wrong about everything he said. My feet remained planted. The silence in the room made me acutely aware of my pounding heart. I wondered if the professor could hear it. I willed myself to stand, but my body remained fixed.

"See, Hannah, you are curious. You want to know what I want of you. Fear mixed with curiosity can be a powerful stimulant. I can see your chest heaving. I'd wager your nipples are aroused and sensitive. You are on the edge of flight or fight. That's a delicious position."

I squirmed in my seat. My thighs pressed together and I felt the dampness. My nipples ached to be touched as they rubbed against the fabric of my bra.

"The question, my dear Hannah, is how to set yourself free."

"Free of what?" I asked.

"Free from what?" he replied. I stared at him. He was tall and lean, with dark features. Today he wore a black turtleneck over black jeans. His dark hair was combed straight back. He wore rimless glasses with the lens catching the light from the lamp next to him. On his left wrist he had a copper bracelet and a silver ring on his thumb. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Free from those chains that hold you back. Free from the repressed sexuality that is bursting from your young body. Free from the fear that you would not be the good girl your parents want if you give into your deep desires. Hannah, you long to be free. Today, you will have a taste of what it is to be free—to be a sexual woman."

"You're crazy. I'm nothing like that and don't have any of those feelings you say. I'm a normal person, not some pervert."

"Desire is not perversion. Desire makes us human. Desire enables our people to survive. Without desire, we are not alive."

"I'm going to leave now," I said. His words frightened me. I am a good girl, not some slut controlled by her sex. Even as I thought of that concept, I longed to reach under my skirt and touch myself. I wanted to pull my panties aside and plunge a finger in my wet cunt. God, when did I ever say cunt?

"You are free to go at any time," the professor said once more. "I know, though, that you want to stay. You want to know what's next."

"I'm leaving," I said, but remained seated.

After a minute, he spoke. "You say you're leaving, but here you are. Hannah, I am going to loosen some of your chains today. It will be only a start. You will have to take the rest of the journey by yourself."

"What...what are you going to do to me?"

"I am going to do nothing. I am going to give you permission to do what you want, what you have denied yourself."

"How?"

"Stand up, please."

I forced my legs to work. Slowly I raised myself from the chair, praying my knees would not give way.

"Take your clothes off."

I stopped breathing. Surely, he didn't tell me to undress. My mouth hung open.

"I...I can't. I won't."

"Hannah, you wear these clothes that cover you so completely. Why do you do this? Is it because you are afraid of your eroticism? Do you think by hiding your figure that you can hide your desires? That's not possible."

The professor smiled. "You are also afraid that exposing your flesh to others will put at risk of being rejected. You are not confident that your body will be found desirable. You hide your desires and you hide your skin. Today, we will overcome that. Take your clothes off, Hannah. Let the real woman appear."

I was sweating, soaking the armpits of my blouse. My hands remained close to my sides. How did I get in this ridiculous situation? I'm not going to strip in front of my professor. I've never done anything like this. I'll refuse and leave. At least I can face him in class again. If I did what he wants, I could never look at him again.

"Get rid of the sweater and then unbutton your blouse."

That's it. I'm leaving. My feet remained fixed. I decided that I would stay, but I would not allow him to make me comply. I willed my arms to remain still, yet somehow my hands began to move to my neck. I pulled the sweater off and threw it toward the couch. I shuddered as I undid the top button of my blouse. One by one, I opened the shirt, exposing my bra and the flesh of my tummy.

"Good. Slip it off your shoulders." As if in a dream, I let the cotton fabric slide down my arms and dropped the blouse to the floor. I instinctively covered my breasts, hidden behind the sturdy bra. I tried not to register the shock that the touch on my erect nipples sent through my veins. The greater shock was I was standing half naked in his living room. I wanted him to command me to do more—to do things I never dared to even think about.

"Loosen your hair and shake it free," he said. I reached up and pulled the pins from my bun. As my hair cascaded to my shoulders, I shook my head loosening it into thick waves.

"Run your fingers through it." I let the silky strands slide through my fingers. I felt an intense tingle between my legs.

"Beautiful. Now, Hannah, reach under your skirt and remove your underwear."

I knew we had reached my barrier. There was no way I was going to take off my panties. I stared at him. The professor smiled and slowly extended his hand. He anticipated the gift of my intimate undies.

I bent and ran my hands up my legs. Hooking my thumbs in the band of my panties, I eased them down to my ankles. Holding the band with one hand, I stepped out of them. I stood, the white garment hanging from my fingers. The professor inched his hand forward. I placed my underwear in his hand. He used his thumb and forefinger to rub along the crotch, feeling the wetness. He looked at me with a smile.

"The bra, please, Hannah."

I felt bereft of resistance. I unclasped my bra, shrugged it off and let it fall. The air ran over my nipples, hard and protruding, causing me to shiver.

"My, how exquisite, my dear. Now, touch your nipples. You must play with them, squeeze them."

As my hands cupped my breasts, my breath caught in my throat. I had never felt this level of sensuousness in my entire life. I rubbed my fingers over the nubs. I licked my lips when I pinched each nipple. They had become so hard and yet so sensitive. I never wanted to stop touching them. I wanted to show them to the professor. I wanted him to desire them.

"They are so beautiful, Hannah. Please turn around."

I twirled until I was facing away from him. "Take off your skirt." Again, without my willing it, the skirt was undone and fell to the floor.

"Magnificent," he said. "Bend at the waist." I complied, feeling air move past my exposed sex lips, damp with arousal. "Yes, you are wet," he said. "Turn back toward me."

As I faced him, he stared at my full and untrimmed bush. "Just as I suspected," he said. "So many women shave it off. They don't understand the sexual allure of pubic hair that hides the special treasure. Hmm, I can smell your arousal, Hannah. It is a good smell. Rich and fecund. Please sit."

I retook my place in the chair, knees pressed together.

"Spread your knees; open your legs to me."

I complied.

"Now, touch yourself."

"I can't," I said in a whisper.

"Why? You want to. In fact, you ache to do so. Your cunt is begging for a touch. This is your last barrier, Hannah. Cross it, set yourself free."

I moved my finger to my crotch. My tip grazed my clit, still retreating behind its hood. I know I moaned.

"Continue, Hannah."

I rubbed my clit. Every ounce of modesty dissipated as my fingers pressed down. I had no control. My sex was driving my mind, my hands. Pushing the hood back, I ran my fingertip back and forth. As the pressure built, I slipped a finger inside me. I cried out with pleasure. I added a second finger, plunging faster and faster. As I played with two sets of fingers, one outside and one inside, my pelvis thrust forward, for harder contact. My butt was lifting off the seat as my tempo increased. When I thought the end would never come, my body convulsed. I came and cried out. The spasms rocking my body drove everything from my mind except for the sweet pleasure of release. Slowly I lowered my butt back onto the seat and pulled my hands away. My legs splayed open; my sex dripping in front of the man across from me."

My eyes were closed as I tried to regain some composure. I felt a movement. I startled as I felt a damp cloth press on my sex. Opening my eyes I saw a dark-haired woman with green eyes gently wiping me. She wore a gossamer gown that showed her full and erotic naked body beneath. Her hands brushed my breasts as she leaned in to kiss my forehead. When she finished cleaning me, she moved to stand next to the professor. I could see her large breasts topped by dark nipples and a thin dark strip between her legs behind the flimsy garment.

"That was beautiful, Hannah. I think you know that you are different now. You may wonder what I thought."

He stood; the outline of his erection evident in his trousers. The woman standing next to him ran her hand along the shape. She unzipped him and slid her hand inside. The professors emitted a low growl.

"You may leave, Hannah, but you will never abandon the lesson you've learned. Embrace your sex, embrace your womanhood. You are freeing yourself. The rest is up to you."

The beautiful woman fondled him inside his pants. I dressed and left.

The End.

I lifted my eyes from the screen of the laptop. Will had loosened his shorts. His hand was buried inside his underwear, stroking his cock. He opened his eyes.

"Guess you liked it?" I asked.

"That's the hottest thing I've ever heard." With a grin, he extracted his hand from his shorts, but did not zip them.

"You know it's a fantasy," I said. "Nothing like that ever happened, or would ever happen."

"Maybe."

"There's no maybe," I said. "It's just a made-up story. It helps me get aroused and I use it as a way to intensify my masturbation. Fantasy—that's it."

"Yeah, a story you use to turn yourself of so you can masturbate. I get that, but the thing about fantasies is that they must somehow be connected to reality in order to work. You have to imagine that you really are in such a situation."

"I'll admit that, but it's still fantasy."

"Hannah, the professor sounded a lot like our psych teacher in junior year, Mr. Arnold."

"Maybe."

"I think it's more than maybe. You used to say he was hot."

"So what? I never did anything with him."

"Who was the girl?"

"Made her up."

"Really? It made me think of Alexis."

"I made her up, get it. Besides Alexis would never do something like that."

"That's not true and you know it. She told us about some of her flings with other girls. As I recall you thought that sounded sexy. And, you've often said that Alexis was the sexiest person you knew."

"She and I never did anything, honest."

"I believe you, Hannah. But remember this is fantasy. Maybe part of your fantasy includes Alexis. Maybe you'd like to see her naked and masturbating. Or, maybe you'd like her to masturbate you?"

"That's stupid. I'm not discussing it any longer."

"Whatever," Will said. "But you have a hell of a story here. Too bad."

"Too bad?"

"Yeah, you won't be voted as the worst story. I'm not going to see you naked and playing with yourself."

"You're a jerk," I said and slapped his leg. I let my hand rest on his thigh, inches away from his open fly. I could tell he still was erect behind his white briefs; there was a damp spot on his briefs at the crown of his erection. "Maybe you ought to zip it up now."

"I could," he said. "Or, I could, you know, take it out and finish. Would you like that? Maybe you'd like to help." He moved my hand to rest on top of his erection behind the underwear. I felt it throbbing.

"Why don't we wait to see what happens tomorrow night." I patted his hard shaft before I pulled my hand away.

He smiled and closed his shorts.

The Contest

Alexis had ordered in a ton of Chinese food. We all chipped in for the cost and we shared lots of wine that we all had brought with us. When we cleaned up, we gathered in the living room, just as we had when we decided to agree to this wild contest.

Alexis took charge and said we should draw numbers from a bowl. The lowest number drawn reads his or her story, the second lowest goes next and so forth.

"We're going to read them out loud?" I asked, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

"Yeah. I think it will be much sexier if we hear the person saying the words. Is there any objection to that?"

No one said anything, so I figured I would keep quiet. Alexis said she had written numbers on pieces of paper and put them in a small bowl. She said we should draw one piece of paper, but don't look at it until everyone has one. She passed the bowl and we each extracted a folded paper. When everyone held a paper, Alexis said she'd go first.

"Five," she announced. Bart was sitting on her right and he said, "One. Fuck!" We continued until we established the order. It would be Bart, Will, Emily, Liam Alexis and me. We refilled our wine glasses and turned our attention to Bart.

Bart was not a gifted storyteller, and that's putting it mildly. His tale centered around phrases like, "Huge fucking tits" "fucking yanking", "fucking wanking" and "fucking stroke the shit out of my fucking huge cock". He left us begging for less when he announced "I fucking shot a fucking ton of jizz outta my fucking cock".

We all booed at the end. "Not too good?" he asked.

"At the risk of teeing up another contest," Emily said. "It fucking sucked." We agreed and even Bart joined in on the laughter. "Well, let's see what the rest of you came up with?" he said.

"Don't you mean 'fucking came up with'?" teased Alexis.

It was Will's turn. I was really excited to hear his story. Part of me wanted to even the score since he had heard mine. The other part centered around admitting that I found him attractive and wanting to see if I could use my imagination while he spoke. I recalled the feel of his erection after I read my story to him. I had regretted that he did not expose himself that night. I would have wanted to see his erection. I would have enjoyed watching him masturbate.

"I hate to disappoint you after that classic tale from Bart, but mine actually happened. Further disappointment...I don't think I use the word fuck at all."

We cheered him and he began his tale.

Will's Story

It was the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. My mom's sister and her family came for a visit. My aunt and uncle, and my cousin, Addy, would be staying at our home. The adults took the guest room and Addy bunked in my sister's room, who was working at a camp for the summer.