When the school year began again, I was easily the most experienced guy in the whole high school. I didn't brag about it to anyone, but as I walked the halls I knew there were rumors swirling around about me. The only one that I confirmed was that Jess and I were seeing each other. But I made it a point to say that we weren't going together; we were just dating and both of us were free to see other people. Not that Jess would risk doing that...unless I told her to.

My sexual prowess wasn't the only skill that I'd improved upon during the summer months. I'd honed my mind-reading skills to the point where I could break down a person's most complex mental walls, probing thoughts, memories and emotions they'd kept buried for years. I was, frankly, amazed by the number of people who'd suffered childhood traumas of a sexual nature. Traumas that were still affecting their behavior, though they refused to see the connection. Even more amazing was the number of people who harbored intense feelings of guilt just for thinking certain things. As if the average person can control their mind so much that they can stop from thinking uncivilized thoughts. For instance, I discovered a neighborhood mom who had once dreamed that she'd seduced and fucked her son's best friend, a boy of about 14. Though it was just a dream, she still felt very guilty about it, even two years later.

If you look at it logically, there's no reason to feel that way. In fact, I can prove it. Try, for a few moments, to calm your mind by concentrating on your breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out. Once your mind stops talking to you, notice the kinds of thoughts that try to intrude. Most of them have nothing to do with real life, do they? Things spill over from your subconscious, unrelated thoughts combine, impossible fantasies bloom and fade. You have no control over what's generated. So why would you feel guilty about it?

I'd also honed my mind-control skills over the summer, learning how the human mind handled a lack of information by supplying concepts on its own. In nearly every instance, gentle persuasion had worked better than brute force. The mind's ability to rationalize any action, no matter how illogical, helped me to get dozens of women in bed, legs spread and ready to fuck. That's not to say that I didn't practice on other people as well. I got everything from extra french fries to free entry into a few concerts, just by "convincing" other people that they wanted to do me a favor. The flush of pleasure that they felt for doing me a favor only confirmed that they'd done the right thing. Of course, it helped that I enhanced their pleasure at serving me.

So, by the time I got back to school I had that part of my act pretty well under control. Or so I thought, until I ran into the Law of Unintended Consequences.

My key experience with the Law took place in October of that school year, and it almost got me tossed out of school. I'd spent most of September just getting reacclimated to being in school, using my mental skills only occasionally to rid myself of some minor annoyances. But overall, things were going well, especially since I'd been lucky enough to get Ms. Caroline Hampton as my physics teacher. She was a brunette babe who, though it seemed impossible to my young mind, was already 32 when she joined the staff at my high school. Five-foot-nine-inches, perfectly proportioned with big breasts and pretty green eyes, Ms. Hampton put the rest of the teaching staff to shame. Not that they were all that desirable to begin with.

Throughout September I'd been limiting my sex to a weekly romp with Jess, an occasional interactive mind control with the neighbors, and a nightly mind probe into someone's memories. After the summer's orgy, you could say that I'd cut way back. So it wasn't surprising that Ms. Hampton really caught my eye. And that when fate handed me a key, I'd jumped right through the doorway.

Unlike most of the guys in Ms. Hampton's class, I kept my libido firmly under control. I knew from reading her mind that she understood the constant flirting, but felt that it really hurt the education we were getting. Of course, she also thought we were just a bunch of kids. Having confirmed my theory, I never probed her mind any deeper than that. Big mistake.

I met up with her outside the classroom completely by chance. I was walking home in the rain one day when I saw this woman on the side of the street trying to change a flat tire. Figuring that I'd do my good deed for the day, I stopped to help. I was completely surprised to find that it was Ms. Hampton. It had never even occurred to me to do a mind probe before approaching her. But looking at her as the rain soaked through her white blouse and bra, with her skirt plastered to her slim legs, an idea blossomed in my mind. Even as it did, she helped it along.

"Oh, Jason, I seem to have gotten myself in a bit of a bind," she remarked as I approached to help. "If you could help me change this tire, I can give you a ride home." Fortunately, I'd had a bit of experience changing tires, and it didn't take long to get the spare tightened and ready to go. Once we were safely in her car and out of the rain, it didn't take much of a mental suggestion to get her to take me to her house instead of mine. She certainly couldn't deliver me to my parents looking like something the cat dragged in. So she'd head home, get changed, get me dried out, and then take me home. At least, that's what she thought at the time.

We made small talk as she drove through town. When we stopped at a light I saw some of my friends and I knocked on the window to get their attention, reveling in my comfort while they slogged through the rain. It didn't occur to me that they might recognize Ms. Hampton through the foggy windows.

I was surprised when we pulled into an apartment complex. I'd thought I'd heard her describe her nice home in a conversation with another teacher. As she led me up the stairs, she appeared to be very distracted. It was a look I was all too familiar with, because I was the cause of it. Every time a doubt would creep into her mind, I would push it away and replace it with a reassurance that she was doing the right thing.

Her apartment was sparsely furnished, with just a couple of chairs, a small dining room table and a TV. I followed her into the bedroom, relieved to see that she at least had a bed. That's all I really wanted.

By now, her wet clothes had really begun to itch, and I simply enhanced her desire to get out of them. It didn't take much of a projection to convince her that I wasn't really her student Jason, just a charming guy who looked a little like Jason. And that she really did owe this guy a good roll in bed. And besides, wasn't it really time to take some pleasure for herself? I knew her mind would fill in the rest, but I didn't bother to check out the details. All I cared about was the chance to fuck my beautiful physics teacher.

I sat on the bed and smiled with pleasure as she worked the zipper loose on her skirt and let it fall to the ground. She was wearing a nice, lacy pair of white satin panties, quite unexpected underwear for such a prudent teacher. She removed her blouse next, peeling the wet fabric from her skin. Her waist was nicely curved and her stomach fairly flat; a perfect appetizer for any man who would nibble his way down her body. As she unhooked her wet bra she experienced a few more doubts which I quickly quelled. There'd be no further interruptions in this spellbinding strip show.