narkikuss-blog

[narkikuss-blog]

Psychological Frenzy

Jenny is standing before the class. Some of the students are tired and bored. Others are conversing in whispers lively. Only few are actually listening to what she’s got to say about the evolution of cognitive abilities in humans. But Jenny’s mind wasn’t completely on topic either.

In fact, since she started lecturing in college, she has never been the same. Wet and dirty reveries invade her dreams every night. They thrust their way into her dreams like fat cocks. Every morning she finds a blanket, slightly wetted in the area of hips. It is even worse in the classroom. Her whole body throbs with lust and she can’t concentrate on the subject. It is as if she was always wearing a vibrator that throbbed, and throbbed, and throbbed, and throbbed. She wants to moan, to writhe, to stroke.

Instead she has to compose herself, and follow the PowerPoint presentation on the subject of such-and-such. She leans over the table, hoping that at least some of the students will notice her pouncy tits. When she drinks water, she purposefully spills a little. A wet stain reveals one of her perky nipples beneath the black blouse. Can they see? Are they as horny as she is?

This thrill isn’t enough for Jenny. While she is telling students about amygdala and its role in moderating emotions, her own emotions overpower her. She’s dizzy with sexual hunger. Her fantasies surrond her perception, and she’s a powerless slave of their whim. She mounts a pencil skirt up her hips, just enough to reveal her plump delicious ass. She can’t resist licking her lips at this moment. And then she seats her naked butt down on a warm leather chair. Inch by inch, behind the table, she spreads her legs and...

“Excuse me, Mz. Bunting!”

Taken by surprise, Jenny makes a soft but audible moan and rapidly closes her spread with an audible thump of the hips. Flustered, she looks around the class for the student that has called her out. Is it a red paint of embarrassment on the cheeks of the students? Is it an uncomfortable question in their eyes? She notices a raised hand of Emilia, one of Jenny’s best students. A comely girl with bewitching blue eyes and a pretty mole above an upper lip. The armpit of a raised hand is smooth, and Jenny imagines licking Emilia’s skin.

“Yes, Emilia, you have a question?” Her voice quivers slightly. She gulp in hot excitement.

“Mz. Bunting, is their a physiological way to distinguish limbic system from the rest of the brain?” Such a sweet voice trickles from a slight opening between her lips. Jenny dies to jam that opening with her wet tongue.

Jenny recollects her thoughts to answer Emilia’s question. But swiftly her imagination returns to Emilia’s body. In her mind’s eye: Emilia comes closer and closer, sliding the hem of her denim dress up and down. Finally, the student pins Mz. Bunting to a chair with her legs. Tentatatively, she rubs her naked pussy up and down, faster and faster, gaining a momentum. The teacher drives her nails into Emilia’s butt cheeks and buries the face in the cleavage.

“Aaaah!!! Ooooh!!! Aaaah!!!” She moans and groans into Emilia’s tits.

Jenny grabs petite Emilia into her arms, and throws her on a table. As a hungry beast she licks, bites and nibbles at Emilia’s skin. The girl messes Jenny’s prissy hairstyle.

Oh! How she wants to dry-hump her! Eat out her pussy! To unleash a sex goddess inside a good girl!

Frustratingly, the bell rings and the lesson ends. Jenny finishes the lecture by rote. Everyone walks out of the class. Emilia is the last one. For a second Jenny considers pinching her ass and see what comes out of it. She hesitates.

Predatorily, she closes a door before Emilia, takes a little hand and drives it into her own skirt.

[narkikuss-blog]

The Architect

Layers of air are squeezing my skull. With each touch of a needle, the pulsating spreads over my body. Each second’s a distortion of movements and images. Colorful memories float before my eyes. Are they mine? Or the ones I installed?

The robot applies the needle tentatively, short-circuiting my soul one more time. Instantly I am falling through the skies. I land in the operation room when the robot, whirring mechanically, detaches the needle.

So many years I wasted exploring myself. So many years I tried to be a pilgrim in the lands of my inner world.

“We also provide a bonus service: would you like to install a virtual switch between ‘introversion’ and ‘extraversion’?”

The offer is interesting, even enticing. I try to gather my thoughts and make a decision. It’s impossible to do after the surgery. Note: need to execute memory defragmentation at home.

“The service also includes instantaneous estimation of internal and external stimulus,” the robot was haggling, detecting doubt in the pause.

All my life I’ve been an introvert. Extraverts, these vampires sucking energy from outside, have always been a mystery to me. What is it like in their shoes?

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“The special offer continues until the end of the month. Thank you for the visit.”

My body rises from the seat. I come home, savoring the expectation of the brand new life. The robot had electrically inserted ´Discipline´ packet into the firmware of my somatic nervous system. This upgrade gotta finally help me start a better life.

While I execute memory defragmentation, clouds are hurling the rain behind the window pane. I reload the system.

All my life I pictured myself as an explorer of my emotions. But now I can rewrite, edit and construct them. I am the Architect. I have all the power.

After reloading when I open my eyes, it’s raining inside my room. Is it some bug? System error? Drops leave wet stains on the paper. Not a bug. I am trying to enforce the ‘Discipline’ packet. But I keep on crying in the dark. Hot tears roll down my cheek and land on a piece of paper.