It is a well-known fact that it is not only a benefit but also a burden to know exactly what the people around you are feeling.
So far, so true.
But with him, it is different.
I love to feel what he feels - simply because he never lets it show and I am the only one who can determine what is really going on below that smooth surface of calmness.
I am also the only one who knows how intense his feelings can be.
Every night I sit in my quarters, close my eyes and mentally reach out for him. I find him either working, fast asleep or reading a book - but sometimes (far too rarely for my taste) he does neither of these things and I catch him doing something a lot more... well, private.
This situation always causes a sudden rush of excitement in my mind - and then I let my mental guards down in order to allow his passion to wash over me. Of course I cannot read his exact thoughts, but that would perhaps diminish the experience anyway - I wouldn't want to mentally listen to him fantasizing about other women - and I am more than just content with simply feeling what he feels when he pleasures himself.
I enjoy the way his passion rises up until he can no longer bear it - and then his emotions become blurred in both his and my mind until there is release and the aftershocks of his orgasm have subsided. His incredibly focused rationality kicks back in almost immediately, and I always notice his embarrassment at seeing the results of his own pleasure; and I know how eager he is to wipe the cum away and pretend even to himself that nothing just happened.
It is an incredibly erotic moment and before I can stop myself I realize that my hand is moving towards a certain point between my legs - and I never do anything to stop what happens next. His pleasure always awakens mine, and I think of him only when I touch myself - and I would like nothing more than for him to able to feel my passion the same way I can feel his. I know he would be shocked at first, but I always end up imagining both of us pleasuring ourselves while our minds are linked - and the mere thought of this is what always sends me over the edge and right into the most powerful orgasms I have ever had.
I know I should be ashamed of myself for using my commanding officer like this - but I cannot stop. The psychologist in me tells me that I am mentally addicted to his pleasure and that what I am doing is unethical and wrong.
You know what?
I don't care.