Time Stop

"What?!" "No fucking way!" Now everyone was very, very impressed.

Cynthia held the paper up for everyone to see.

Even Donald was impressed, albeit he wouldn't admit it. It was of course Henry's writing on the paper, but it was still entirely unclear how he made the switch. "You, you Cynthia, you were in on it, weren't you!" That had to be the explanation. There was no other possibility.

"Oh Donald, don't be so stupid," Cynthia admonished him. "I wasn't even the one who brought up the topic of magic in the first place, and why would I even do something like this, with...Henry." As soon as she said it she realized that was a little insulting, particularly after Henry had been so entertaining. She looked at him again. Why had she suddenly become so excited? Henry had said that his magic would have an unusual effect on a girl. Did he hypnotize her or something? No, that was impossible. Nobody could do that without the person knowing, could they?

"Well," Donald added, "there is no way he could have changed the paper. The two of you changed it when you were, like, holding hands."

Cynthia though knew this to be untrue.

"Donald," Henry said, "Are you in on it? Are you one of my confederates?"

"Obviously not."

"Oh, alright then," Henry said, pulling out from his left pocket Donald's watch. "Well, then perhaps you would like this back?" He handed it over to him.

"Oh my gosh," Cynthia exclaimed.

People now even applauded. That really was impressive. Henry must have amazing sleight-of-hand skills. This was a side of Henry Demis that nobody ever knew, would ever dream of, although it is a stereotype that private, nerdy guys at times developed impressive skills through their long hours alone.

"Well," Henry said, "I've got to go. I need to get back to Romola."

Where the hell is Romola, Cynthia thought. She sprang from her seat and took Henry by the arm. "No wait, please, one more. Just one more. Show us one more."

"No, really, I'm wasting time now as it is. I should go."

Cynthia gave him her best coquettish pout, one that no man could resist. "For me, Henry. Would you do it for me?"

Henry smiled up at her face. "For you, Cynthia, of course."

She fired off, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." No magic act had ever excited her so much before.

Henry asked, "Think of a number between one and a hundred."

Cynthia did. She thought of the number 39.

Henry stopped time.

This time he fixed in his memory how he was standing, and then stepped around her to get her purse. When he was done with that he got back in front of her, and reached under her skirt to slip his fingers within her panties.

He smiled as he fingered her now warm, moist cunt and diddled her clit, right there in the student lounge, in front of everyone.

Using his other hand he unzipped his slacks and pulled out his erection. It wasn't that easy to do with just his left hand, but he did have at least some sleight-of-hand skills. He look Cynthia's left hand and wrapped her fingers around his shaft as he continued to finger her tight, wet cunt.

He worked her fist up and down his stiff cock. Her soft feminine fingers felt so fucking good on his cock. Why they would he couldn't explain. It wasn't like she was really jerking him off. He was doing all the work, but it sure felt like she was doing it.

He smiled, feeling how cool it was to be jerked off by Cynthia Lauper, right in the student center. It would be nice if life was really like that, that pretty girls just enjoyed jerking you off whenever you felt like having it done.

Of course, he would return the favor, fingering her as well, just as he was now doing.

Why can't pretty girls be this nice, this considerate. They would make so many guys so happy, so appreciative. Of course, such a thought was not realistic, but maybe one day of the year pretty girls agree to masturbate a guy in need. Henry sighed with the deepest pleasure. Even if it was not really real, it did feel really nice.

It wasn't too long before he felt he might cum. It might be quite the magic trick to have his cum suddenly appear on her fingers, on her dress. But, that probably wouldn't be too well received.

He let go of her hand and brought it back down to her side. He wasn't sure, but it probably was just hanging there before. He slipped his fingers from her cunt, straightened her panties, and then got into the position he felt he had been standing before.

He slipped his hand back down into his pocket and started time.

Cynthia felt that she might fall down. Her cunt felt so inflamed, so wet. She squeezed her thighs together hard, feeling such an urge to reach down, with her fingers, or to perhaps have one of the boys do it. Perhaps even Henry? She never before felt such an immediately intense urge to be fucked.

Henry asked, "Was the number 73?"

"What?" Cynthia was so confused, for more reasons than one. "No," she gasped, "no, it was 39."

Donald smiled. Others expressed disappointment, along with knowing smiles and nods. They all knew that he wouldn't be able to do it.

Cynthia rested her hand on Henry's shoulder, reassuring him that it was a nice try, as well as to steady herself. She squeezed his shoulder. "That's okay, Henry," she said softly, her voice a bit breathless. "It was pretty close."

'Close?' Donald thought. Henry wasn't at all close.

Henry looked perplexed. "Really, are you sure?"

Cynthia nodded her head.

"I could swear it was 73," Henry objected. "That number was so clear in my head." He thought for a bit and then asked, "Cynthia, how much change do you have in your purse?"

Cynthia's eyes widened, as did everyone else's. She turned around to get her purse.

Henry's eyes went to the curves of her bottom, so nicely outlined by the soft, thin dress falling so gracefully along her derriere. Perhaps he could fuck her from behind as she got the change out of her purse? How nice it would be to fuck every girl as soon as she bent over. Doctors might then have to explain how bending over is making girls so intensely aroused.

Cynthia quickly opened her purse, extracted the change purse, poured the contents into the palm of her hand, and carefully counted it out. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, her pussy becoming now even hotter. "Seventy-three cents. I have exactly 73 cents!"

"Ah," Henry replied without any emotion or surprise. "That explains it. Well, look, I really do have to go. I'm running out of time."

He left before anyone could ask a question, could ask for an explanation, or could ask for another trick.

Cynthia watched him leave with wonder, her heart racing, her cunt dripping.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It was difficult for Cynthia not to think about Henry for the rest of the day. She was even thinking about him that evening, when she was on her date, with Alex Spaulding, the tight-end for the Livingston football team. She even thought about him, at least for a bit, when she was having sex with him. That really blew her mind, as Alex was so much more attractive than Henry, and so much more Cynthia-worthy than Henry.

She only thought about him though for just a bit the next day. She was getting over it. She had no idea how Henry did those tricks, but who knows how David Blaine does them? Clearly, though, Henry's trick wasn't due to actors, to camera editing, or to confederates, all of that was most definitely true.

Henry had been pretty busy himself. In fact, a whole week had gone by for him. He had visited quite a few places.

The girls locker room had been pretty cool. He had always wanted to peek into a girls locker room. Now he could even stroll right in, slowly making his way in and out of the rows of lockers, enjoying the bevy of feminine delights in all stages of various undress.

He had timed his visit to correspond with the end of cheerleading practice, and got a bonus when he discovered that the girls volley ball team was in there as well.

He didn't really have to lift up any skirts, open up any blouses, or pull down any panties, as many of the girls had already accommodated him on that score. But, he did pull down a couple of pairs of panties, just to help them along. He was particularly interested in Pamela Browning, whom he found to be the cutest cheerleader of them all, with very curly blonde hair, perky round boobs, dimples that one would die for that just lit up such a sweet, girlish smile. Well, turns out she wasn't a natural blonde. But, that did not diminish her appeal in his mind.

Henry did though give her a few light smacks on the bottom for dying her hair. When time started again she would be surprised to have her panties down and shocked to feel that someone had apparently given her a big smack on the bottom. She would laughingly chastise the girls around her, none of whom though would confess, but that would hardly be surprising.

Henry also went to a bank, to make a private withdrawal. He took out well over ten thousand dollars, almost dropping the watch as he did so.

But, he felt guilty about that. It was the guilt in fact that probably made him almost drop the watch. It wasn't really true that nobody would personally suffer from his theft. Some bank employee would likely be held accountable, perhaps even lose his or her job, perhaps even be accused of committing the crime. Plus, frankly, it was risky. He had worn gloves when he was in the bank, but for all he knew the money was somehow marked. And, he would likely draw considerable suspicion suddenly spending money that he had previously not had, particularly with fresh bills.

He had the money for less than a few minutes of real time before he stopped time and returned it.

It then dawned on him that he could do a lot of good being able to stop time. He could, for instance, break-up crimes. He could suddenly appear during the commission of a crime, shocking guys breaking into a house or assaulting a girl, demand that they cease and desist, and when they didn't, stop time, kick them in the nuts or something, and then start time again, demand from a different location they cease and desist, and so forth.

He could become a super hero! Just like in the comics he had read as a kid. He couldn't, of course, let his identity become known. He would have to wear some sort of disguise. He could announce himself as, "The Stranger in Time."

But, when he tried it out one night, he spent hours and hours trying to find some criminals in action. Turns out there wasn't a lot of active crime on the Livingston College campus or even the surrounding area, at least none that he could find.

It wasn't a total loss. He came across a number of couples in various stages of sex. He considered the possibility of somehow inserting himself into the action. Perhaps insert his dick into the girl's cunt or mouth for awhile, then hide nearby, start time again, and watch the effect.

But, when he finally tried it he did not find it personally satisfying. He enjoyed using his lips, tongue, and finger on a girl but somehow it was too weird to actually insert his cock into what seemed at the moment to be a lifeless girl. It was even a bit spooky. Plus, it just kind of felt like he was, well, assaulting her, rather than just playing a prank or helping her get excited. He didn't feel right about it.

When a week for him finally passed he wanted to check in with Cynthia again. That had been good fun, and she had clearly enjoyed interacting with him in real time.

He looked for her on campus, this time bringing with him a deck of cards.

It didn't take long to find her. She often held court in the Student Center. One had to wonder if she ever went to class.

She was at the food court, getting a soda.

Henry tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around. "Henry, it's you again!"

Henry stopped time. He had a further idea.

He got down on his knees and again lifted her skirt. She was wearing a loose rose cotton poodle skirt, as if she had stepped out of a 1950's movie, along with a full lacy crinoline slip. He got beneath the silky smooth slip, and paused to first admire her panties. They were really quite skimpy, the front consisting of just a v-shaped pink cotton with deep red cherries perched atop thin green stems. Henry well knew that there was no way Cynthia still had her cherry but he did appreciate the sentiment. He wondered how many panties she might own.

He pressed his face right against the front, rubbing his face, his lips, and nose against the soft fabric that covered the equally soft feminine flesh, breathing in deeply the intoxicating aroma of her natural and perfumed scents.

He reached around her body to help steady her, discovering thereby that she was wearing a thong, as his fingers clasped bare-ass bottom. Like any good future model, Cynthia had a very taut, tight bottom. His fingers dug into the firm yet pliant flesh as his lips continued to grind and massage her clit through the thin panty fabric.

He could spend an entire afternoon beneath Cynthia's skirt, but time was wasting. Well, actually it wasn't. But, nevertheless he was now mostly interested in her reaction.

He crawled out from beneath her skirt, got back onto his feet, and resumed, as best he could, his original position, and then started time.

"Yes, Cynthia, it's me. Good to see you again!"

Cynthia looked at him strangely. How very fucking weird! She was again stricken with a sudden wave of intense sexual arousal. Simply looking at Henry had apparently made her all excited? How could that possibly be true? But, it was true. There was no denying it. Could he have hypnotized her the other day, and then now again? No, that was absurd. Nobody had the power to do that. There just must be something about him that made her cunt so warm, so hot, so inflamed. She pressed her knees together, squeezing her thighs as tightly as possible. "Henry," she said, her voice a bit breathless, "how exciting to see you." She reached out her hand to shake his, but imagining instead that she would like to grasp hold of his stiff, hard cock, but then shook that obscene, and ludicrous, thought out of her head.

"How's tricks?" Henry joked, but not in a manner that was terribly original.

"Tricks? Oh yes, do show me another trick, would you, Henry, would you?" She wouldn't let go of his hand until he agreed.

"Sure, sure, Cynthia. I even have a deck of cards."

"Cards?" Cynthia was a bit disappointed. Card tricks aren't that hard to do. She couldn't do any herself but a card trick wouldn't measure up to what Henry had done previously. "Okay," she said without a lot of enthusiasm, her arousal level beginning to dissipate with her disappointment. However, this time she kept an eye on a clock just off to the left of Henry's head. If he was hypnotizing her then there would be a loss of time.

Henry pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. He first showed her that it was a real deck, with all the different cards. It was a Livingston College deck (the King was the college president), so it was unlikely to be a fake deck.

"Now pick one, any one," he said as he spread them open with two hands.

Cynthia didn't even look down, keeping her eye on the clock.

Henry's eyes were on Cynthia's boobs. She was so much taller than him that it was perhaps the natural place for his eyes to focus, albeit that was hardly a valid excuse. The real reason was that Cynthia was sporting a rather tight pastel cardigan sweater. It was fully buttoned, all the way up, but on her that just made it all the more sexy. It was like she was a 1950's sweater girl, her round womanly boobs so tightly gift wrapped in soft, pink fuzziness.

Everything looked fine to Cynthia. There had not yet been any loss of time. She held the card up to her eyes. It was the 7 of clubs. "Okay," she said.

"Write your name on it," Henry said.

She pulled a pen out of her purse and did so, still keeping a close watch on the time.

"Now," Henry said, putting the deck down onto the counter. "Slip it back into the deck. Anywhere at all."

She slipped it back into the deck, her eyes though quickly returning to the clock once she had done so. It was now 12 seconds past the minute.

Henry slipped his hands into his pockets and stood up straight.

Cynthia saw that it was 14 seconds past the minute.

Henry stopped time. He memorized his current position, retrieved the card from the deck on the counter, looked to see that it was her seven of clubs, and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

He then reached out with his hands to clutch Cynthia's breasts. They were not large but they were so very soft and squishy. Plus, they looked so wonderfully round beneath her pastel pearl button sweater, that matched so very well her full poodle skirt. He pressed his face into her breasts, his thumbs rubbing around on her nipples. She felt so soft, so sweet. Boobs are really so very cool.

He eventually pulled his face away and undid the buttons of her sweater, pulling it open to reveal the round pink lacy push-up cups. Now, this was a true fashion statement. What could be more sexy for a girl than to walk around with her sweater open and brassiere revealed, particularly one as delicious as this. Perhaps if girls did dress this way men would eventually grow tired and bored. It would no longer be something hidden, something they had to work for. Well, Henry couldn't imagine that ever happening for him.

He lifted up the cups to feast his eyes on Cynthia's wondrous boobs.

Well, it was only fitting that Cynthia Lauper would be blessed with two of the most well-shaped, roundest bubbies a girl could possibly have. "Oh my gosh," Henry softly exclaimed, and just stood there to admire them for awhile.

He reached down to unzip his pants and wrench his stiff cock through the flaps of his briefs and slacks, grasping hold of his shaft in his hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around it as he stepped forth to plant his lips right on one of those perky little nips and suckle like a babe in heat.

He licked, nibbled, pinched and chewed like a starving puppy at a teat, all the while slowly yet firmly stroking his cock.

He then shifted to the other one, not wanting to play favorites, albeit keeping the first one happy and amused by twiddling it with the finger and thumb of his left hand, his right hand remaining quite busy with important matters of its own.

When he felt like he had done more than enough he carefully slipped Cynthia's boobs back into their homes. That was a bit more difficult than he had anticipated. He had never put a girl's brassiere on before. His only experience so far was taking off Doris'. He hoped Cynthia wouldn't notice the awkward fit, although what could she possibly think if she did, particularly as he slipped the card into her left cup, along with her breast. He buttoned up her sweater and then got back into position, his hands thrust into his pockets, his eyes gleaming with delight as they remained focused on those round, soft, pink breasts.

Whoa! He looked down to see his cock still sticking out of his pants. Now, that would have been a bad mistake! He quickly slipped it back inside, zipped up his pants, resumed his position, and started time.

Cynthia noticed a brief, very brief, blurred movement of Henry's body, but definitely no change in time. But, a big change for her! Her nipples were suddenly becoming very stiff and pointy. She looked down at them. They were indeed poking out her sweater like a couple of bullets. They felt all tingly, inflamed, and even strangely moist. Her face reddened with embarrassment, and arousal.

Normally she did not mind her nipples sticking out. Sometimes stiff erect nipples were part of the effect of her outfit, and sometimes simply unavoidable on a cool fall day. But, her breasts were at the moment just inches from the bookworm Henry's eyes, plus they felt so aroused, so excited. They were not standing up stiff and tall because of some air conditioning. She in fact felt rather warm and flush.