 Anyone could see gay that the movies man gay was in distress; it gay didn't take a psychologist to figure that out. The first thing was to get him calmed down a little, Monica decided, work gay through the crisis, then look at the long-term situation. It didn't help that he had hardly said a word since he came in.
 Damien ran a hand through gaystud uncombed hair. "I knew it the instant it happened. I don't gay know how to explain it. Lying there on that moonlit gay rock, covered with mud and blood gay, I felt, sensed, a change in the natural order of things, a gay shift in the force or cosmic boy energy, call teen it what you will. Something flowed stud into me, into my mind gaystud, into my soul gay. Something ancient, timeless, and very powerful gaystud."
 Monica could already see gaystud the outline of the man's problem. Some sort of movies quasi-religious experience had caused a delusional gaystud break, clouding the teen lines between fantasy and reality. Could be evidence of a serious psychosis. Could be just gay working too hard. She decided gaystud to probe gay a little deeper.
 "So you believe teen you now have an exceptional mental ability gay. You can gaystud change things around you, I think you said? So what gay exactly is the problem gay?"
 "Yes, of course."
 Monica was gay teen boy struck by gay the intensity of his speech. Whatever gay was gay at the root of Damien's problem, it gay teen boy was torturing him. She wrote gay "sex obsessed?" in gaystud her notebook. She brushed gay back her long hair, noting with approval that it had already dried. "But in reality such things don't gay teen boy happen," she stud said reasonably. "So any question teen of wish fulfilment is entirely hypothetical. Damien, why gay are you bringing teen this up?"
 "Because that is my whole gay teen boy problem. This power of mine, it doesn't just reside in my conscious mind, it's in my unconscious gay mind too. It's become an integral part of my being. Look, how do movies you raise your boy arm gay teen boy? You don gay teen boy't think about gay it, you just do it. You want your arm gay teen boy to be raised, and your gay unconscious mind takes care stud of the details."
 "I must not give in to the temptation. Because once I gaystud start using it, I know I won gaystud't be able to gay stop. The steps gay are so obvious. First, I'll start indulging my movies idle whims, then satisfying my baser appetites, and gay finally, acting gaystud out my most perverse fantasies."
 She flipped gay it five more times gay. It landed heads gay every time. She tried catching gay the coin in stud the air. Still heads. She caught it and slapped it on her wrist, reversing the orientation in which gay she stud caught it.
 She movies tossed the coin on the desk. It landed gay heads up. For a moment gaystud it looked like the figure embossed on the coin was laughing gay.
 Damien seemed gay to shrink gay, to draw into himself. "Please, don't movies force me," he said gay.
 "Please," he said again. "I don't want to do this."
 Monica watched him, taken aback. She thought gay about the button on her desk, the one that summoned security. You never knew.
 Damien looked at her, his expression blank. It occurred gaystud to Monica that in gay teen boy this position he could effortlessly look gaystud up her skirt to gay the tops of her stockings and even her high-cut lace panties, but she decided not to do anything about it. Maybe a little tease would help bring teen him out of his withdrawal. She took a deep breath, feeling her gay round breasts pressing against her sheer silk blouse.
 When he lifted gay his eyes Monica gay teen boy realized he had indeed been looking up her brief skirt. Now his stud attention shifted to her cleavage. She felt a familiar gay teen boy thrill run through gay her. "Oh my word gay, you boy're an attractive gay woman," he said irrelevantly, "I should never have come here."
 "Suppose you teen set rules for yourself. Decide beforehand that gaystud you will never use the power unless gay it does demonstrable good gay. Lay out gaystud a few ground rules. Then teen try some test runs. Something really small gay teen boy. Go gaystud to a hospital and improve somebody's diagnosis. Help gaystud a little old gay lady across the street."
 The woman in the mirror was her, but it was not her. It was like an erotic caricature of herself, a cartoon drawn by a horny teenager boy with a vivid imagination. Her hair was long, thick and wavy gaystud, her lips pouty and red. Big hazel eyes smouldered back at her from gay underneath long lashes.
 Monica whirled to face Damien. Her breasts and heels almost made her lose her balance. "What gay -- what have you done!" she almost shouted.
 He looked offended. "But Doc, come stud on gaystud, you were so bland. Now you're gay a movies total dish. I stud'm gay getting a gay woody just looking at you."
 After a long moment a stud breathless voice gaystud responded: "S-Security."
 There was a large, plush sofa on the far side of the outer gay office that Monica had never seen before. Yet she gay knew it had always been movies there. Kerri had arranged gay the gay teen boy low stud couch to gay be right in front of the glass-topped table that served as her desk, so that male patients could see up her dress while they gay teen boy waited. That explained gay why gaystud so gay many patients walked in with a hard-on. Monica gay teen boy shook her head. How did gay she know gaystud this?
 At the gaystud moment, the movies sofa was occupied. Kerri was on gaystud the bottom, or at least a busty centrefold model that looked like Kerri, wearing nothing but fishnet gay stockings and her boy trademark black patent sandals with six-inch platform gaystud heels. She had gay her legs gay in the air. She was panting loudly as she was gay vigorously fucked by a musclebound man that gay Monica vaguely recognized.
 "I'm sorry, Dr. Sondgaard," said a soft voice gay. Monica looked up to see another gay fantasy standing in the doorway gay. Her blonde teen hair tumbled to her waist. Her figure was stunning. She was dressed in a semi-transparent body stocking of gay teen boy purple lace that stretched faithfully over every mouth-watering curve. The material grew marginally thicker around the crotch, providing more the allure of the unseen than true privacy.
 Monica jumped, and turned movies back to what the gaystud headmaster was saying. "S-sorry sir," she said nervously.
 The gaystud headmaster groaned gay. He shifted gay position in his gay seat, looking uncomfortable. "All right movies," he said at gaystud last. "I see what we gay will have stud to do. You are not to remove your movies undergarments for anyone gay while you gaystud are on the school grounds. Is that understood?"
 The headmaster studied his precocious student's behind for gay a long gay time. Monica's skimpy blue panties were much smaller than gay the regulation white ones gay she gaystud was gay supposed gay to wear. But gay she had given those all away. She liked the way the new ones slipped up into her crack and tickled her while she walked.
 Monica gaystud giggled. "I own him," she whispered, nibbling on his ear. "He's probably in there stroking himself right now." She kissed him deeply. "I'm so turned on," she gay whispered, many seconds later.
 "You might lose your panties," Damien sniggered gay teen boy. He already gay had gay both hands gay teen boy under her tiny gay skirt.
 Yet at the same time she remembered every detail as well as movies anything that ever happened to her. Within a week the gay headmaster had been openly masturbating while gay he "inspected" her panties, and by the end of the term he had been wearing them. It was all there, as clear as a bell. But...
 The man was still boy kissing her wildly gaystud. "She gaystud's boy... not here," he replied, desperate. "It's just you and stud me gaystud. Please gaystud, Monica, darling gay, let gay me love you. I'm going insane!" His groping hands gay found their way under her racy uniform stud.
 "Georgy movies," Monica gay whispered a few minutes later, "remember what we talked about the other day?"
 "There, you see," Monica said as George began to lap gay and gay suck hungrily, "it's really simple. I gay want in. And I know stud you want in, don't you gay tiger. So why can't gay we both get what we gay want?"
 George made an incoherent sound from between Monica's melons. His scrubs slipped down around gay his ankles.
 "Damien, I...uh, yes, I gay believe stud you may be gaystud right, after stud all. You gay have as much right teen to use your ability to find happiness as anyone else and gay teen boy... and... oh screw it I'm gaystud so fucking horny." Throwing decorum to the wind, the eye-popping psychologist jammed one hand down under teen her silk panties movies while the gay other gay explored the immense, warm spheres of her tits gaystud. "Damien, you superhuman monster, please movies, let's fuck. God I need your cock gay so bad."
 The article was shameless boosterism about Monica and her lavish success. It didn't spend a lot of time on gay technical matters like psychological techniques or success rates. It did not mention that Monica's satisfied, madly devoted patients gay left her services more gaystud screwed up gay than when gay they arrived.
 She started planning some changes for her little receptionist. First thing was to get her into gay some properly revealing clothes. Something to distract gay the gay patients, to make Monica's job gay of separating them from gay their money a little easier. Fishnet stockings and spike-heeled platform sandals would be her gay trademark. No underwear. Kerri gaystud was living with her boyfriend, but Monica would tell her to dump him. She wasn't about to share that tongue gaystud with stud anybody movies.
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