by chris.lionofthenorth

Copyright© 2016 by chris.lionofthenorth

Fantasy Sex Story: With Angela's pleasurable touch comes a great deal of personal anguish. Will she learn how to use her power to exact revenge on those who have wronged her?

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   NonConsensual   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Superhero   FemaleDom   .

This story and others from this author should only be enjoyed in a responsible manner. If you find yourself wanting to enact anything in these stories, or feel that you might develop a fetish, please do not read any further. Sex addiction is a very real problem, and the author does not wish to encourage this kind of behavior

Alright, it's go time.

Angela had never committed this kind of crime before- breaking and entering was not her style. But what's hers is hers, and no one was going to stop her.

Angela gracefully climbed up and over the 10' high brick wall, managing to avoid cutting herself on the short, pointed iron fence that lined the top. She was sure glad she hadn't gotten her lycra suit caught on the fence, because that suit would've torn all the way, leaving most of her body's skin exposed.

The 2-story sprawling mansion towered above the 15-acre property, with its stone walls and many windows. Angela had done some reconnaissance at the insistence of Marcus, a professional criminal and associate of hers. By walking her through her observations of the place, Marcus had alerted Angela to the blind spots of the cameras. That was how she knew which section of the wall to climb over.

There was armed security at the mansion; however it consisted of only one man, a person named "Wheadon". He patrolled the grounds twice a day, spending most of his time inside the house. Marcus figured he spent most of his time in a security room, away from the mansion's owners and guests.

That cheap bastard will get what's coming to him, Angela thought, thinking of the mansion's owner.

Angela scanned the ground last time before planning her route to the house. She briefly recalled her encounter with Mr. Dalio 17 days prior-

"And if anything gets out of hand, I'll pull her immediately. No violent stuff, nothing unseemly" my security attachment, Adam, said.

"That won't be a problem. All of the specifics for the escort encounter have been firmly laid out, and everyone is aware of the rules" the other man said. He looked to be 6'2'' and 220 pounds of muscle. I didn't think many people could stand up to Adam in a fight, but this man looked like one of them.

"Alright, Miss Bella, have fun" he told me. I smiled at him and tried to pump myself up for another meaningless night of platitudes and empty sex- You got this, Angela. You're a sexy animal, ready to pounce on this man. Never mind he's one of the richest guys in the city.

Opening the wooden double doors, I entered the study, where my client waited. He was wearing a red smoker's jacket and black silk pajamas, standing over by his large study desk. I walked in as nonchalantly as I could in my 4-inch heels, which were killing my feet- I was still pretty new to dressing up. This was the part where introductions were made, and I wanted to make a good first impression.

"Hello Mr. Dalio, I am Miss-"

"Yes, I know who you are" he interrupted me, in a low booming voice. It wasn't the first time I had encountered a high-profile client with a lack of respect. I knew they liked to take the lead, so I waited.

There was no follow up from Mr. Dalio, not a single utterance to continue our conversation. Instead, his steely gaze warned me not to speak again. He's judging me, I realized.

Trying not to look uncomfortable, I stepped to my right and shifted my weight there. With my right hand on my hip and my left arm straight down my left side, I was giving him a pose. After all, that's probably what he wanted.

Mr. Dalio continued to look me over, so I had a chance to look him over, too. He was likely in his late 50's, judging by his receding hairline and grey hair. He was of average height, and a little chubby. With the smoker's jacket on, he looked like Hugh Heffner, but with a 'dirty old man' feel to him.

"You gonna stand there all night like a freakin' mannequin, or you gonna do somethin'?" he barked at me. I suddenly felt self-conscious about myself, so I let my arm drop.

"Whatever you want me to do" I smiled at him, trying to seem as pleasant as possible.

"Yeah, you're damn right. I'm paying top dollar for a second-rate chick, so you better be good in the sack".

My jaw dropped a little in shock. What the fuck did he just say? Second-rate?

I had to quickly swallow my pride and put on an air of indifference to his words. After all, this was the only kind of work I was really good at, and it paid very well. I needed to get this over with.

"Alright then, Mr. Dalio. Where would you like us to go?" I was expecting us to go out to a social gathering or performance. That's what escort services were usually for.

"Right there" he said, nodding to an old-fashioned leather couch. He seemed to enjoy my consternation. He grabbed a drink of something that looked like whiskey off his desk and took a swig.

"The bedroom is for my wife. She doesn't care what skanks I bring in here, as long as they stay out of our bedroom." Oh my gosh, the gall of this man.

I nodded in understanding. He's not giving me much direction, I thought, waiting for him to make a move toward the couch. "Alright, just tell me what you want me to do" I replied, hoping he would break the tension. Maybe he'll call the whole thing off.

Mr. Dalio finished his drink and walked over to the couch. I saw him wave me over impatiently, so I walked quickly over to him.

"I'll be honest, miss, I've seen bigger tits on most of the girls from Fantasia Girls. Bigger asses, too. You've got nice skin, and you're not too old, but I'm expecting a little more for the money I'm spending."

What a complete asshole. Should I just leave?

"So you better be good at dancing, and fucking. I mean, sex like fucking porn stars. That's what I want from you. Let's see whatcha got" he nodded up to me.

Feeling self-conscious, I knew I wouldn't be giving a great performance, not without special help. I certainly didn't want to give him a taste of what he wanted, either. He didn't deserve the sexual pleasure I could give people. But I had an idea.

Shaking my long blonde hair back, I started to feel around my body with my gloved hands, closing my eyes to focus on feeling sexy again. Blocking out where I was at the moment, I let my hands explore the bright red dress I was wearing, eventually settling on rubbing my breasts. Although I didn't have a lot of cleavage showing at first, I was able to knead my breasts so that it would show more skin.

I eventually moved my left hand towards my crotch, curling my fingers into my pussy like I was masturbating.

Opening my eyes, I saw Mr. Dalio watching me impatiently. This isn't working, I realized.

Switching my style, I turned around and backed into Mr. Dalio, relieved to be avoiding eye contact. I placed my butt on his crotch, hands on the couch on either side of him. Using my hands as anchors, I leaned forward a little and used my legs to rotate my ass on top of his crotch. With the thin silk lining of his pajamas, my dress was able to slide effortlessly over him.

"This is taking too long, sweet cheeks. You should suck my cock." The idea of sucking his old shriveled cock disgusted me.

I stopped my gyrations for a second and turned my head to the side, "I can usually make men ejaculate just by rubbing on them like this, sometimes in less than a minute." I hoped he took offense to it.

I heard a laugh instead, "Sweetie, I'm not even at half a chub. There's no freakin' way you could make me ejaculate in less than a minute. Just suck my cock like a good little girl."

I stood up and turned around to face him, staring challengingly into his smug face. "Then I'll make you a deal- if I can make you ejaculate with my lap dance in less than a minute, you double my pay. If I can't, then you can have me for free tonight. Deal?" I continued to stare at him. The look in my eyes told him I was serious.

He only thought about it for a moment- "Ha, that's ridiculous. No girl is that good."

"Good, sounds like you'll win", I said, "Rules are: you let me move however I want, without any resistance. Your manhood stays in your pants, and I won't be allowed to touch it directly. You can count to sixty."

"Girl, you must be crazy. After Miss Fantasia hears about how you lost the money, I guess I won't be seeing you online anymore, heh."

"Feeling confident?" I asked, "Maybe you'd like to up the ante." I crossed my arms to appear more confrontational. I knew he wouldn't like that from a second-rate chick like me.

"Sure, hun. Whad'ya had in mind?" he said, reclining backwards, fingers locked together behind his head.

"If you cum before 30 seconds are up, you quadruple my pay, and I go home immediately, job done. If I don't make you cum in 30 seconds, not only will you get me for free, I'll do whatever you want for 4 hours. And I mean anything" I added, head tilted down. There were some things this client had asked for, that no girl would agree to.

"Make it triple your rate, and you have a deal" he said. Even when the deal is too good to be true, he had to negotiate better terms.

"Deal" I said, closing my eyes. "I'll tell you when to start." Slowly, I took off my long Opera-Length satin gloves, exposing my bare hands for the first time. I undid my heels and kicked them off, ignoring the pompous look on his face. It was finally time to release myself, to let go of the energy building inside of me.

With a predatory look, I opened my eyes and looked at my prey, sensing the slight bewilderment in him. I lowered myself on all fours, keeping my wide eyes locked on him. Slowly, like a panther stalking its prey, I crawled towards him.

With my intense stare, I saw the beginning of his fear taking hold, as if his confidence was shaken for the first time. I was no longer the timid girl, trying desperately to please this man. No, I was now the one in charge, giving the orders and taking what I wanted. And I had to show him that.

Placing my hands on his thighs, I pulled myself up, and then pulled my dress up until my panties were visible. With the added mobility, I swung my legs over his, straddling his lap.

"Start" I spoke into his eyes. I waited until he started counting.

"Uh, One ... two..."

Grabbing the back of his neck, I firmly held his head, keeping his eyes on me.

I grinded on his crotch, rubbing my panties on his now full erection.

"Three ... four..."

I suddenly saw the surprise in his eyes, and he started to shake.

"Oh ... fuck" he managed to say, as he creamed himself. I felt the pulses from his penis, as he spurted out his man juice into his pajamas.

His eyes fluttered from the sensation in his pants, but I continued to lock onto his eyes.

"Ohhhh" he moaned, losing control of his body. I felt his body weaken, so I let go of his head.

I watched as he fell straight back, eyes closed in ecstasy. He was having a good orgasm, alright.

Angela remembered the rest of that night very well. After winning the contest, she demanded to have her money, to which Mr. Dalio flatly refused. He used the excuse that he had taken Viagra before she arrived, which shouldn't have mattered to their agreement. After arguing with him some more, Mr. Dalio threatened to give her such a bad review that "she would never work in this town again!"

Realizing that she wouldn't get what she was owed, Angela left the house empty-handed. She had Adam take her home, where she promptly called Miss Fantasia and explained how the evening went. Unfortunately, Miss Fantasia couldn't blacklist Mr. Dalio, given how wealthy and influential he was. To make things up to Angela, Miss Fantasia promised to pay her the regular rate she was due, $550.

So now here she was, trying to get back what was owed to her. The sense of injustice Angela felt ever since her encounter with Mr. Dalio led her to enlist the help of Marcus, who was guiding her from a quarter mile away.

"So once you reach the house, I want you climb up the trellis to the second-story window. That should be the one of the guest bedrooms" Marcus said in her ear.

Angela ran as fast as she could to the back of the house, running through the garden to get there. As she expected, the motion detector lights turned on, and she hoped she had made it to the house without being seen.

Without skipping a beat, adrenaline pumping through her blood, she climbed the trellis along the back wall of the house. From her recon, she already knew no one would be in this room, but she still had to act quickly to get inside.

Angela took the glass cutter out of her bag and suctioned it to the window pane, near the lock. Tracing a circle with the arm of the glass cutter, it only took a couple revolutions to cut through the glass.

Angela froze when she heard dogs barking- that wasn't supposed to happen. Yesterday, Marcus had set up a sound system not too far away from the estate, simulating a dance party at another house. Initially the dogs were barking at the noise, so Wheadon had to put the dogs in the kennel and quiet them. The music was still playing now, so she was hoping it would obscure the sounds of her movement towards the house, but the lights must've triggered them anyways. Shit, I have to get in fast.

Ten seconds later, Angela had the window up and was climbing inside. After quickly checking her surroundings, she closed the window and taped the circular glass cut out back into place. The room she was in was completely dark, save for the moonlight coming through the window.

Angela let her eyes adjust to the darkness, and calmed herself through a breathing exercise. She had to wait for security and the owners to go back to bed anyways; otherwise she might run into them while sneaking through the house.

She waited for 30 minutes, in which time she observed Wheadon walking the grounds to investigate the motion detectors, gun out. He looked just as imposing from her vantage point in the window, as that time she met him face to face. Since he knew her face, Angela had to wear a black ski mask that only showed her eyes, in case she was seen tonight.

After 30 minutes, Angela was about to open the door to check out the rest of the house, when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Oh shit.

She quickly moved the curtains over the window to cover up the window cut, and dove underneath the bed.

The door opened, and she saw Wheadon's boot step into the room. Angela froze, waiting to see what he would do next. If he looked under the bed, she was going to jail.

After another tense moment, the boots turned and walked out of the room. Angela let out a sigh as the door closed. It looks like she was going to wait a little longer.

Checking the time on the guestroom clock, it was now 1pm. Angela knew that the house keepers would be arriving in a few hours, so she didn't have much time.

Marcus had explained to her where the valuables would've been kept in the house- the bedroom, the study, and the den. Since Mr. and Mrs. Dalio were in the bedroom, Angela figured on exploring the study, where she had unsuccessfully conned Mr. Dalio not 3 weeks before.

Pushing out with her senses, Angela slowly made her way down the curling staircase. Testing the stairs with her weight, she had to crawl down the edge of the stairs like a crab, distributing her weight as evenly as possible to minimize noise. Once she made her way down and was sure no one else was down here, she tip toed towards the study.

Trying the handle, Angela realized that the door was locked- a good sign for valuables, but an impediment nonetheless. Reaching into her burglary bag again, she pulled out a heavy circular magnet, and applied it to the lock. She was amazed that a little clockwise motion of the magnet brought the deadbolt back. Tricks of the trade, I suppose. Thank you again, Marcus. After gaining entry into the study and locking the door behind her, Angela closed the bay window curtains, placed a towel by the underside of the door, and flicked on her miniature flashlight.

It took ten minutes to look through every drawer, including a secret compartment on the underside of the desk. There were mostly office supplies and miscellaneous desk knick knacks in the drawers, but Angela did find thirty $100 bills in the secret compartment. She decided to take a couple watches too, not sure of their worth.

Angela looked around the room, trying to find something else of value. Even though she had found the money she was owed, and then some, she might as well make the best of her opportunity. After all, she was never going to take advantage of a situation like this again.

Besides the bookcase, the walls were lined with shelves. Looking through them, there were some odd artistic pieces- an African tribal mask, a skull of some animal she didn't recognize, and a collection of coins. There were also a lot of pictures of Mr. Dalio's foreign travel, and some with celebrities. Is that an autograph of Babe Ruth? Hmmmm.

Angela grabbed the coin collection and signed baseball, stuffing them in her bag, along with the money and watches. It was time for her to go.

Angela looked over to the couch, and remembered one of the first things Mr. Dalio said to her- "I'm paying top dollar for a second-rate chick." Her blood boiled at the memory of his insults. No, now I need to get my revenge.

Angela stormed over to the laptop, turned it over, and slammed her magnet on the bottom side of it.

"Here's your lap dance, you son of a bitch" she muttered angrily, sliding the magnet around. She heard the clicking of the metal pieces inside, and hoped the hard drive would be corrupted beyond use. Placing the laptop back exactly where it was before, she placed the magnet back in her bag and proceeded out.

The next day, Angela continued life as usual, except that she was now $50,000 richer. Marcus had looked over the items she acquired from her burglary, and valued them at over one hundred thousand dollars. Angela thought her cut was low, but hey, she didn't know the first thing about fencing, and fifty grand was only half bad.

Of course, the robbery was in the news, and Angela subsequently learned that Mr. Dalio had fired all of his staff, including Wheadon. It pleased her to rewatch the news clip of Mr. Dalio fuming on tv, because it never got old for her.

Life was going pretty well for her, and Angela was looking forward to meeting again with Miss Fantasia to discuss her future with the escort service. Miss Fantasia was an old Asian woman who was stern about the rules, but she had always taken an interest in Angela. So Angela was in for a shock when she heard the news-

"I'm sowry Angie baby, but we awe wretting you go" Miss Fantasia said. They were both sitting at a café downtown.

"W-wait" Angela stuttered, "Why am I being fired?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Mr. Dalio seem to think you awe somehow responsible for the wrobbery at his place. He say that if I don't wret you go, he will pwress chawges and get porice involved."

"So? The police won't find anything, because I didn't do it. Fantasia, you don't have to do this. He's got nothing on me!" Angela pleaded.

"He has this" she said, bringing out a dark glossy photo. It was a picture of a person dressed in black, running through the backyard of Mr. Dalio's estate, backpack and all. Although the motion detectors had kicked in when this person was in the backyard, the photo image was too dark and grainy to allow any kind of identification of the person's face. It was definitely her, though.

"Fantasia, that could be anyone. Please don't do this" Angela said.

Miss Fantasia gave a sigh, "I'm sowry Angie, but I haf to. An investigation could bwring up some ... ishues we've had with other giwrls. And this company can't affowd that." She looked straight at Angela, "There's nothing I can do. I'm sowry."

Later that day, Angela went to the gym to blow off some steam. At 5'10'' and 155 pounds, Angela was fairly tall and athletically fit, and her daily workout routine was the reason why. Besides cardio on the treadmill for heart health, she liked to spend at least half an hour lifting weights to tone her arms and legs. On this day, however, she went straight to the heavy bag to release some aggression. She had taken some kickboxing classes in college, and it was time to renew that interest.

Exhausted from her workout, she decided to go home and shower before eating dinner. She didn't know what she was going to do tonight, but it would likely entail lounging in the living room or the bedroom. After being fired from your job, it was normal to want to compress.

Angela walked into her condominium apartment, which was part of a five story apartment housing complex in the city. It was a cozy 700 square foot apartment, with living area/dining area, kitchen, single bedroom and bath.

Angela dropped her gym bag on the floor and walked over to the bedroom to find some new clothes for her shower, when suddenly something dark rushed at her. Hit hard, she was tackled to the ground in her bedroom, with something heavy holding her down.

Angela squirmed under the pressure, trying to get away, but couldn't. She was sprawled out on the carpet, a forearm to the back of her neck, and a knee putting pain on her lower spine.

Angela tried to scream, but the man twisted her face into the carpet, muffling it.

"Where's the money?" the man said. It was a low voice, and one she didn't recognize. "Scream again, and I hurt you" he said, brandishing a knife for her to see.

Angela was starting to panic, fearing for her life. I could die here, she realized.

The man alleviated some pressure from her neck, allowing her to speak.

"I ... I don't know what you're talking about" Angela said. In response, the knife came to her neck. She thought it would slice her open right then and there, so she struggled, before realizing that he was only threatening her.

"Don't lie to me again. I know what you stole. Tell me where it is or I will slit your throat." The knife was pressed further into Angela's neck. Shit, I don't have it. I don't have it. He's gonna kill me!

"In the closet" Angela spurted out. Her mind raced in circles without forming any prolonged thought, like an anxiety attack. The lack of movement was making her claustrophobic, contributing to her panic.

"It's not there" was his response. Shit, please don't kill me! I don't want to die.

"It's under the carpet" Angela managed to say. It was a bald-faced lie, but Angela didn't want that knife touching her anymore. She was only a flick of the wrist away from blood pouring out her jugular.

The cold metal against her neck left, and Angela felt something wrap around her eyes, and then her mouth. Then her hands were painfully brought together behind her back, probably so he could tie them together. As soon as she felt his hands on her wrists, though, there was a release of energy from the skin to skin contact.

"Uuuhhh" the man moaned, loosening the grip on her wrists. Using the distraction to her advantage, Angela twisted around and took her blindfold off, seeing the man for the first time.

He was well-built, over 200 pounds, with a black shirt and jeans on. The ski mask obscured his face, but his expression showed he was still close to ejaculation. He doubled over, falling to his hands and knees, but the knife was still in his hand.

Fearing that he might come to at any moment and strike her, Angela grabbed his knife hand. As soon as her hand touched his, he lowered his head, his whole body shaking-

"Aaaaahhh" was his renewed cry, as a wave of orgasm struck him. Seeing that he was preoccupied and feeling weak, Angela toppled him over easily, and straddled his chest. Still holding onto his knife hand, Angela easily pried the weapon away and threw it to the side.

The man's eyes were rolled back, the stimulation too much for him to bear. Angela held onto his arm with a viselike grip, the anger burning inside of her.

"How dare you!" she yelled at him, but he gave no verbal response. Rather, he continued to convulse as the pleasure overwhelmed his brain.

Seeing that he was in no state of mind to answer questions, Angela let go of the man's hand. The man stopped shaking, but his eyes remained closed. She pulled his mask off...


Angela struck him full in the face with an open hand, knocking the sense into him.

"Who sent you?!" she yelled again. "Talk, or I fry your brain into a vegetable!" The man seemed to be comprehending, albeit slowly.

"John ... Dalio" he managed, in between breaths. He seemed sedated and weak, similar to an epileptic's post-ictal state.

Oh, fuck! Dalio is coming after me. This goon must've been hired to get his things back, maybe even take me out!

"Tell me the truth, or I swear I'll make your heart explode" Angela threatened, bringing her bare hand next to his face. "Did he order you to kill me?"

"No ... just get the goods ... and hurt you a little ... for payback" he gasped.

Angela searched through the man's jeans, threatening to touch his face if he moved. Grabbing his wallet and phone, she told him, "I'm keeping this", before yelling at him to, "Get the Hell out of my apartment!"

Once the man left, Angela slammed the door and locked it. She slid down with her back to the door, hands in her face, crying. It was just another traumatic event in this crazy life of hers...

Angela didn't know why her powers suddenly appeared one day, and it took a while before she was able to understand what was happening.

She was 16 at the time, and her boyfriend Steve and she decided to make out one night. It wasn't the first time they had done so, and Steve seemed to get too turned on from their earlier sessions, so Angela was worried about that night. She chalked it up to typical hormone stuff.

From the moment their lips touched, Angela felt something weird happening to her. Her lips were tingling, like she had eaten hot peppers. Before she knew it, Steve had creamed his pants, and was really embarrassed. He apologized profusely, and made up some excuse she couldn't remember now.

They gave it a few minutes, and Angela asked if she could try kissing him again. After all, guys can't ejaculate again for about ten minutes, so they would have some time to make out. He agreed.

The same tingling sensation happened to Angela as soon as their lips touched, but she ignored it. Within a few seconds, though, Steve pulled away from her, explaining that he was rock hard again.

When Angela asked if he had taken something to get an erection, Steve adamantly denied it. They were both left confused, and not knowing what to do. Since Steve was too aroused to even kiss her, he drove Angela home. Before she walked back to her house, however, he made her swear not to tell anyone what happened.

Before long, Steve and Angela couldn't kiss at all, much less hold hands. Steve thought it was something medically wrong with him, so he saw his doctor, but the doctor couldn't explain what was happening.

That was around the time that Angela and her older brother Andrew were play-fighting one day, and he orgasmed as well. That awkward experience created some separation between the siblings, one that continued to the present day.

It was after making her brother ejaculate that Angela realized it was something she was doing. To make sure none of her family or friends ever had the same experience, she wore gloves and long-sleeved shirts, even in the summer. She always wore nylon stockings, which was enough to prevent the strange energy transfer to others.

After she and Steve broke up, uncomfortably, Angela didn't have another romantic relationship with anyone else. She understood that her sexual power would make any relationship entirely untenable, so she avoided the attentions of men around her. Angela was always a pretty girl with curly blonde hair and athletic body, so the boys naturally assumed she was a lesbian.

During college, Angela had a breakthrough; that maybe her powers were forcing her to be a lesbian. So one day, she decided to "switch teams". Her lesbian reputation must have gotten around, because she was getting signals from some of the girls in her dorm that they were interested in her.

Becky was one of those girls. She was shorter than Angela, with short dark brown hair, and lovely skin. Angela was never into girls, but the loneliness was unbearable in the sex-crazed dorm she lived in.

During one Saturday night when her roommate was out of town, Angela invited Becky over to her room. She locked the door, and awkwardly explained how she hadn't ever been with anyone before. Becky told her not to be embarrassed about being a virgin, and that she would help her out however she could.

They were both sitting cross-legged on her bed, and that moment of vulnerability and acceptance turned romantic.

Both Becky and Angela went up on their knees, passionately kissing each other. It was the first time Angela had touched someone in years, and she desperately wanted this to work.

They were exploring each other's bodies with their hands, lips locked for a minute. It felt so good to Angela, like a piece of her she had been missing her whole life.

Becky pulled back, and Angela had a flashback to when Steve couldn't continue making out, a shocked expression on his face. Instead, Becky seemed possessed with lust, and she proceeded to take her own clothes off. Angela was taking her clothes off as well, although not as quickly as Becky was.

"Are you alright, Becky?" Angela asked, concerned.

Becky gave her a smile, "Never better". Oh, good. Looks like we can make this work, Angela thought with relief.

Becky was fully naked, save for her white panties. Angela was still trying to take her pants off, but was half-naked.

"You're so beautiful" Becky told her. Angela's heart warmed when she saw the look of adoration in her eyes. It reminded her of how a dog looked when its owner came home.

Angela laughed, partly to break the tension, partly because she was struggling to take her jeans off. "You, too" she said.

Once their clothes were in a pile on the floor, Becky pounced on Angela, knocking her softly backwards on the bed. Now their chests were together, breasts squished.

It felt so wonderful for Angela, like she had finally been freed from her self-imposed prison, ready to experience the world anew.

They continued to kiss, and Becky seemed to get more and more turned on, her movements more and more frenetic.

"Aaaahh" Becky moaned into Angela's mouth. Angela felt her hand being pushed into Becky's vagina, which was surprisingly wet.

"Oh, fuck me" Becky grunted. Angela was now working her hand into Becky's pussy, back and forth.

Becky continued to breathe heavily, "Ah ... ah ... AH ... AH"

"Shhhh" Angela tried to chide Becky. She was making enough noise that the entire suite would hear them.

Becky dove her head into the pillow next to Angela, and let loose a primal scream- "aaaaaaaaah"

As she did, Angela felt the spasming of Becky's nether lips on her hand, and the squishing sounds her hand made. A little grossed out, Angela pulled her hand away, which was sopping wet.

Angela was concerned about the noise, and listened to see if anyone was at their door.

"aaaaaaah" Becky continued, shaking on top of her.

"Shhh, quiet down" Angela responded.

It didn't seem like anyone was coming to knock on their door, so Angela brought her attention back to Becky. She was still moaning into the pillow, her body wracked in the throes of a very long orgasm.

"Okay, Becky" Angela told her. It was going on for too long, and she was getting uncomfortable underneath her.

"Becky!" she yelled, but still she didn't roll off.

Finally having had enough, Angela pushed her away, and that's when she noticed that Becky was unconscious.

What?! Why isn't she breathing! Fuck! What do I do?

Angela was panicking, staring straight at the person she may have just killed, when Becky started breathing again. It was very shallow, and barely noticeable, but she was alive.

Angela cried from the guilt, trying hard not to hold Becky in her arms.

"Why is this happening to me?!" Angela cried, tears streaming down her face. It's not fair!

Knock, knock

"Is everything okay in there?" a muffled voice said from the hallway. Angela took a deep breath to compose herself.

"Yeah, everything's good" she said.

"You sure?" It sounded like Melanie, who lived in the dorm room a couple doors down.

"Yeah, Melanie, I'm good. Thanks." It took a minute for the shadows the leave her door, and then Angela was relieved. Angela looked back at Becky, who seemed so innocent, a smile on her face. Becky, what did I do to you?

After the shock had worn off a little, Angela put her clothes back on, including her gloves, and redressed Becky. Becky finally came to an hour later, with the same smile on her face.

"What happened? Were you crying?" she asked Angela in a sleepy voice.

"No, I'm fine. How are you feeling?" Angela asked her, concern in her voice.

"I feel like I've been in a coma for years. Can you get me some aspirin? I have a splitting headache."

At the insistence of Angela, Becky went to the doctor for a checkup. The doctor gave her a prescription for her migraine, although Becky continued to feel fatigued afterwards, missing class for almost a week. She slept all the time, and said she felt depressed.

It took nearly a week for her to recover, but when she did, boy was she attached to Angela. Becky explained to her how she had never orgasmed like that before, and how stupid it was for her to feel this in love.

Becky was flirty around Angela, who showed she was bothered by it. Angela tried to brush off her advances, and slapped her hand away if it was getting too close. Either Becky didn't get the hint, or didn't care.

Meanwhile, Angela was feeling depressed about the reemergence of her sexual powers, and what that would mean for the rest of her life. While at school, she barely talked to anyone, and rarely left her room. She imagined living as a hermit, alone so that no one else could get hurt.

With all of her emotional problems and social anxiety, Angela was unfocused at school, and her grades reflected it. She completed her second semester as a freshman with a 1.7 (C- average). Uncomfortable with her social life and feeling trapped and afraid all the time, she decided to drop out of college to pursue something else. She couldn't bring herself to talk to Becky, who still hadn't gotten the hint that she wasn't interested.

Instead of making that weird break-up of their non-relationship with Becky, Angela never enrolled for the next year, and no one from the college ever heard from her again. She hoped Becky would be okay.

Worse than that was the separation from her family. Angela was ashamed of herself for dropping out of college, and didn't want to endanger anyone else with her powers. After all, if her powers were to get stronger, she could do to her family what she did to Becky with a brush of her hand.

Without school loans, Angela needed a job, or else she would have to beg for money. She still wanted to live in the city, and apartments weren't cheap.

She worked as a waitress at the Red Dolphin Diner, in the city. It didn't pay much, but it was enough to get by while she figured out her next move. Angela tried to be sweet with the customers, since not only did her tip depend on it, but they were her only social connection with the world.

Perhaps it was her good looks, or the sadness in her eyes, but one day a rough-looking customer was making eyes at her. She ignored his innuendo and stares, just trying to get through another workday.

The man continued to ogle her, but she didn't have the heart to tell him off. When he was finished with his meal, she brought him the check-

"Here's your check, mister. You can pay up front", she told him. He was about 40 years old with rough stubble on his face. He looked like a trucker.

The man looked over the receipt a little too quickly, and stopped her before she could say goodbye and leave, "Hey sweetie, I'm really sorry about this, but I don't have enough money to pay."

You've got to be kidding me, Angela thought.

"Maybe there's some other payment I can give you" he leered at her. Angela understood his innuendo, and was repulsed by it.

"Sorry, not interested" she demurely responded. Why couldn't he get the hint?

"Oh, I think you are. A pretty little girl like you needs a man to take charge, and I don't think you have one in your life" he said, reaching for her arm.

Angela didn't realize that the man was trying to touch her until it was too late. Fortunately for her, she wore gloves wherever she went, and the man only grabbed her gloved hand.

Fearing skin to skin contact, she pulled her arm away and slapped him.

"Ow! You little bitch, now you've done it" he growled, before standing up and grabbing her arms, harder than before.

"No! Stop it!" Angela yelled. Patrons at the diner were now watching, but no one had intervened yet.

"She hit me", he yelled to the rest of the diner, "You all saw it. Unprovoked. What kind of place is this?"

"Please, let me go" Angela pleaded. She struggled, but he was too strong.

"One kiss before I go, payment for the disservice you gave" he said. He pulled her in closer to him, wrapping her up in a bear hug. She was now pinned against his chest, and couldn't pull away.

The man tried kissing her on the lips, but she was turning her head, so he only glanced her cheek. That touch seemed to ignite his passion, because he focused on kissing her neck instead. Angela felt him squeeze her harder, making it difficult to breathe. She could feel his erection through his pants, as his pelvis pressed against hers.

"Noo" she cried, but he continued to press himself on her.

A couple seconds later, the man arched backwards and lifted his head up, as his cock spasmed in orgasm, "Uuhhhh" he moaned.

The powerful stimulation inside the man loosened his grip, and Angela was able to push him back into the booth. By then, a couple bystanders had come over to help her, and one woman tried to console her.

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