Her slumber deepened. The low masculine voice commanded it to do so. She stirred a little, but not in protest. She listened, obeyed the softness that spoke steadily into her ear, and fell deeper still. Again she stirred; this time to question.

Somehow, Tressa's subconscious became her conscious. She remained deeply asleep, but was able to remove herself from her dream and subconsciously "watch" it and "hear" it. The authoritative voice was taking her deeper into her unconscious. She was able to subconsciously ask, "Is this a dream? A dream of being hypnotized? Or am I awake? Awake and being hypnotized?"

She concluded that it was a dream, a fantasy of her imagination. She also concluded that it was a certainty, a reality inside her dream. Tressa was truly being hypnotized. She focused on the dream, heard the powerful voice guiding her deeper, and she listened and obeyed. Her subconscious gradually melted into her unconscious as the voice totally dominated.

It was a fantasy and a reality wrapped up in one sweet package, which she was aware and accepting. She allowed herself to fall deeper into this darkening spiral of opposites and began to stir again, more like a sleepy thrash, as the abstract arousal moved her into a more corporeal condition.

The first morning sunlight in weeks awakened nature from a long winter's nap. A beaming ray shined directly on the icicle hanging from the eave in front of her bedroom window. Tressa opened her eyes, squinted at the cold icy stalactite, and tried to summon wetness to her dry panting mouth as she threw the confining covers aside.

Her heated body, damp with perspiration, was drawn to the glassy phallus that looked so delicious and inviting. She sprang to the window, tore the large icicle from its roots, and sucked the sharp tip to quench the nagging thirst.

A cool droplet fell to her chest and seemed to sizzle on her hot flesh. Another cool drop fell upon another, each causing a small pool to collect and trickle down her breast and onto her pale rose-colored circle. Tressa closed her eyes as she lowered the icy point and searched for the puckering pinkness herself.

She teased both breasts until her heat thawed the sharp end enough to tickle her darkening nipples. The arousal from the hot and cold caused her to fall back onto the bed. She automatically spread her legs as the melting spike traveled down her belly, snaked through her curly muff, and encircled a throbbing fire that dissolved this frozen object of desire.

Tressa dared to lower it more and to playfully enter her already wet opening. She thrust it a little deeper, and then brought it dripping to her mouth for a tiny taste. Again she slowly snaked to her opening, entered briefly, and then pulled it back toward her fiery knob. The cool melted flow of water spilled over her and mixed with her own warm wetness that gushed out with each spasm. Tressa's shivers were not from the icy cold abduction that overtook all sensibility, but from the peculiar orgasmic release that ensued afterward.

The reality of the dream played over in Tressa's mind as she showered. She had seen a hypnotist on a talk show earlier in the week and was interested enough to watch most of it. So she knew from where the dream had originated.

She had also masturbated before, and those few and infrequent times were usually after awakening in the morning, so that act was not surprising either.

The puzzling, even shocking, thought of this morning's performance, however, was her passion with the icicle. Tressa was too conservative to own any sex toys and her upbringing actually frowned upon sex as something pleasurable. But the arousal created from her dream hypnotist and the icy hot orgasm that followed left no doubt in Tressa's mind that the two were related.

She dressed for work in her usual traditional manner, again dictated by her straight and formal upbringing. Here, her thoughts drifted briefly to her college days a few years earlier.

Her parents encouraged her to go away to college, but only allowed her to obtain a degree in library science or education. She chose library science and obtained a job at one of the university's larger libraries.

She also had chosen a voluntary education in sex at college, which took care of her virginity. She hadn't been the campus whore; her morals were strong enough to keep the reins tight, but Tressa knew that sex was something she enjoyed and would want to share with someone special.

The manner of dress that Tressa chose for work was always casual elegance. She never wore slacks, not even split skirts. Hemlines below the knee and sometimes to the ankle were the rule for her dresses and skirts. She loved the ones that had a slit in the back or front, which followed a row of buttons as the fastener. She wore pullover sweaters and blouses, sometimes with a blazer or cardigan, and always accessorized modestly. She also fancied shoes and boots and had a large collection of both.

This day's choice was a button-down-the-front, black wool, mid-calf length skirt. It hugged her rounded rear tightly before the a-line shape began to flair out at the thighs. She grinned as she fastened only the top five buttons, allowing the flaps to teasingly open above her knees as she walked or sat.

As she slipped her foot into the ankle high black suede boot, Tressa frowned at the black opaque tights she was wearing. With another grin, she stripped and replaced them with a pair of sheer thigh high black stockings with lacy tops.

She donned a long sleeve kitten gray mohair sweater and pushed the sleeves to just below her elbows. The v-neck cut was not covered with a silk scarf this time. Instead, Tressa decided to wear a platinum oval link chain necklace. It hung just above the hint of cleavage that her sweater hid so well, until she bent over slightly. She watched the swell of her ample breasts rise in the mirror as she bent to zip her boots.

Tressa pulled her long thick blonde hair back into a loose gather, instead of the typical tight ponytail, and fastened it with an abalone shell barrette. The platinum hoop earrings from her college days were larger than she usually wore and she also applied a bit more makeup this day than usual.

One last look in the mirror and with a nod of approval, the more conservative Tressa looked like a classy model from a magazine with sex appeal and an attraction to match.

She stopped at the drive-thru gourmet coffee shop. When the server at the window recognized her, he smiled, whistled, and said, "Your usual coming right up." She interrupted and requested, "No, Carl, not today. Today I will have it black. No cream, no sugar, please." When she tipped him, she smiled and quipped, "I feel like a change today."

But it wasn't a joke. Tressa really felt like a change. It seemed that whatever the norm was, she searched for the contrary; at least contrary enough to be a degree or two above her usual conventional manner. Was it thought out, or was it a reaction? Had the dream brought some hidden desires to the surface?

She walked with a wiggle into the library and hung her coat and purse in the office. She felt her coworkers surprised eyes follow her movements, which only made her grin to herself and add a little bounce to her step.

As Tressa took her seat at the reference desk, an average looking black student approached. He watched as she climbed onto the high wooden stool behind the computer and swallowed hard when she helped her skirt fall to the side barely exposing her inner thighs.

He tried desperately to avert his eyes as he expressed his need for help in finding certain materials. She acknowledged his look at her slightly spread legs with a coy smile.

Suddenly, Tressa couldn't control her thoughts; she was light, and he was dark.

Nor could she control her actions; she was timid, but behaved boldly.

She crossed her legs in an exaggerated manner, which caused her skirt to rise a little higher and reveal the dainty black lace. His face flushed and his eyes grew large as he sucked in a breath of air and slowly released it when her fingertip touched her tongue.

And she abandoned any control of her character; she was moral, but felt sinful.

Tressa led him to a private, rarely used, study room. Unwittingly, he followed in a funny dance-like walk. He spread, bent, and shook his legs as he tried to inconspicuously rearrange the embarrassing bulge pressing awkwardly between his body and tight trousers.

When he realized it was an empty study room, it was too late. Tressa swung around and planted the most sensuous, long, and wet kiss that left them both dizzy. Before he knew what was happening, her hands were groping under his shirt. Her one leg climbed his as her other one wedged in between. Her mouth smothered his speechless lips long enough to stifle any protest he tried to muster until he finally conceded and joined in the passion.

Tressa lowered herself as she lowered his trousers. His rigid cock sprung free and hit her in the face. She delicately kissed it. She wildly sucked it. She gently bit it. She brusquely stroked it. All she could think was soft, hard, soft, hard. It served to stimulate her beyond any sexual occurrence she had ever experienced before.

And his arousal? He fought the urge to rock his hips and pump it down her throat for he knew his load would spill on the first thrust. He merely swung his head back and forth slowly as it rested on the wall behind him and breathily panted, "Oh baby, yes baby. That's it darlin'. You do me, baby, you do me good."

Tressa then stood, turned, and bent over the table. She hiked her skirt up and pulled off her silk panties. He incredulously asked, "You want me to fuck you, miss?"

She seductively whispered, "Yes."

When she felt his large hands rest on her ass, she impishly cried, "No."

Scared, he backed away a little.

Then she enticingly teased, "Yes."

The tone of her voice tempted him closer and when his large round tip, wet with precum, wedged between her moist lips, she naughtily squealed, "No," again.

The confusion made him nervous. Little beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

She let out a tiny giggle as he quickly withdrew and then she playfully lured him back with another, "Yes," in a husky, sexy voice that meant business.

He grabbed her ass again and quickly thrust his hard dark meat into her soft pink passage.

She sighed, "Yes, put it in."

She cried, "No, pull it out."

She screamed, "Yes, ram it in," and then she yelled, "No, slide it out."

She hungrily demanded, "Yes, slam it faster."

She softly pleaded, "No, pump it slower."

She ordered, "Stop," and then she begged, "Go."

He obediently followed Tressa's direction as she wickedly and mischievously spouted contradictory commands of yes, no, fast, slow, in, out, and stop, go. Over and over her crazy instructions heightened their arousals and stimulated them into a frenzied need for release.

She reached back, grabbed his legs and forced him deeper inside as she sexily screamed, "Now! I'm ready now! Show me what you're made of!"

The shared climaxes lasted longer than the actions leading up to it. Tressa swam in visions of opposites as he spilled into her and she simultaneously emptied her own sweetness onto him.

She stood up, turned slowly to face him, looked him square in the eye and confidently stated, "I felt like a change today."