Trying to describe the growth of my mental progress is akin to explaining how, as a baby, you're suddenly able to walk. Momentum has a lot to do with it; one discovery usually leads to another. For instance, in learning the telekinesis, I had to learn how to control certain bodily functions. I found I could give myself a jolt of adrenaline if I wanted. Heighten or restrict my blood flow. Add sugar, testosterone, whatever. It's a talent many people have to some degree. You can make yourself happy, sad, angry, sleepy, etc. just by thinking certain thoughts. Those feelings are the end result of certain chemical reactions. I just became able to control those functions in a much more efficient manner. I named that control automanipulation.

Surprisingly, telepathy quickly followed the development of TK and automanipulation. While in the school library one day, I had been slowing my breathing in preparation for a test the next period. Suddenly I had a feeling someone was watching me. When I looked around, everyone seemed engrossed in their reading. Again the feeling came. Again no eyes were upon me. Finally, I closed my eyes and was amazed to see that I was looking at myself. I saw myself sitting, eyes closed, as if through someone else's eyes.

Opening my own eyes, the image remained in my mind. Only now it was of the text of a math book. I quickly located the only person reading a math book. A pretty blonde, sitting just a few tables over. The image wavered a bit; the link became tenuous. With a push in concentration the channel opened wide. I could easily look into her mind.

Describing mind-to-mind contact is nearly impossible. To simplify things, assume that everyone's mind has two distinct parts: the automatic functions and memory. The automatic functions act and look like an incredibly complex watchworks. You can try and follow the connections and power pathways, but eventually you get lost in the tangle.

However, delving into a person's memory is a much easier task. The processing of both current input and short-term memory can best be described in terms of moving images or vignettes. Current input is three-dimensional and full sensurround. In short-term memory, your brain adds an omniscient camera angle, providing a new perspective based on past experiences and your imagination. Long-term memories are more often single images or short vignettes. Many, however, are also embellished or revised by your imagination. In many cases, it's very difficult to separate the embellishments from the truth. To add to the complexity, many people are able to conduct two-way communication, once a pathway has been opened for them.

In this case, the contact was decidedly one-way. Probing extremely carefully, I was able to discern a few facts about my new pal. Her name was Mary Giarcona. She had a math test to study for. She had a paper clip holding her bra together and hoped nobody would notice. She was still a little hungry. She thought that guy over there was kind of cute, and hoped he would come over and talk to her. (That was me!) She'd had sex with her boyfriend last night but it hadn't been all that good. Her parents had lectured her this morning. She... Wait. I scanned back to the sex part. She'd had sex. Now that'd be an interesting memory to probe.

I don't know what instinct helped me delve into her memory bank. However I did it, I managed to get the full scope without her knowing what I was doing. In fact, except for a single moment when our eyes met, she didn't know that I was even thinking about her.

I picked up the memory thread as she and her boyfriend "Steve" were climbing into the backseat of his car. I saw things from her perspective as he crawls up on her, leading off with a tongue-probing kiss. The sensory parts of the memory had already begun to fade, although I got the definite sensation that he's a harsh kisser. Mary tries to settle him back, nuzzling his neck and placing wispy kisses on his face, but Steve only becomes more aggressive. Patently giving in to his passion, she settles back against the seat, offering neither resistance nor encouragement to his efforts.

Through her eyes I watched as his kisses trailed down from her lips to her neck to her chest. His hands trace down the curves of her waist before hooking onto her halter top and lifting it up. For a moment she's blinded as the top cuts off her vision. She wonders idly why she needs to be topless; all he's really concerned with is between her legs. Still, she wore the clingy white top without a bra precisely in anticipation of his needs. Her next view is of his mouth seeking and finding the erect nipples on her grapefruit-sized breasts. She's becoming aroused despite his ham-handed groping.

She takes the next step in their simple but established dance, unbuttoning his shirt. He'll continue to wear it throughout the act, except on those rare occasions when he has popped for a motel room. Her next step is to undo his belt and unbutton his fly. In a hotel room she would strip off his pants, pausing often to stroke his cock through his underwear. Here, however, he pulls them only partway down. The length of his hardness is clearly visible under his briefs; he says he's eight inches but she feels it's more like seven.

He attempts to kiss and suck her nipples while opening the buttons on her pants, but his balance is off and he's becoming frustrated. She could let him handle it himself, but that would only prolong what is rapidly becoming a wham-bam-thank-you-maam event. So she undoes her own buttons and pushes down her pants, earning an appreciative groan mumbled into her right breast. Released of the need to undo anything, his hands now roam about her body, caressing her curves, squeezing her breasts, twiddling her nipples and pulling her hair.

Suddenly he's off her and sitting up, his presence seeming to fill the entire car. I see what she sees in him: the strong jaw, the smiling eyes, the calm confidence, the potential of a man to be. If he has any perception at all, he'd realize this is the perfect time for proclamations of love and desire. She hopes for it, tensing slightly, ready to give him an experience of a lifetime. But no, he cares only for himself. With a grim smile of conquest, he reaches down to pull her panties from her. She lifts her hips and he pulls her panties down. A past memory intrudes here: she sees herself in the mirror of some room, her legs spread wide and her wet pussy gleaming in the light. She smiles seductively and caresses her breasts, letting gravity pull her legs wider open. A figure begins to move into view...