He would talk and talk, it didn't matter to me if he was reading the fucking telephone book, just as long as those fingers kept creeping up and down m... leg.She paused, trying to recall why it had ended. There had been no scandal, no one, including her sister had ever suspected any impropriety on his part.Then she remembered: His hand had gone higher than ever before. Not just fingers, but his whole hand had come to rest on her panty-clad crotch. I hadn't uttered a word in all the time his. Next week at work, Bam! Wendy.Fucked up, huh? Turning every man's dream into my nightmare. Giving me the ability to have any woman, but not letting me control it.Shit happens.The hard-science-fiction types and dungeonmasters are at this point probably salivating for the technical details of my, um, affliction. So I'll open it up for a little Q&A.When does Dick take control, and how? Is it the same every time?Dick's strength is sexual arousal. Mine is mental focus. It's a tug-of-war -- sometimes. More

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