Past Lives

I worked at many different jobs to pay my way through college. I delivered pizza, waited tables, washed dishes and sorted books at the library. I pumped gas, trimmed trees, fried burgers, and walked dogs. I would take just about anything that I could fit into my class schedule. I was in between jobs and was getting desperate when I saw the following ad tacked to the bulletin board outside the cafeteria:

“Students needed for Psychology Department research project. Must be open-minded. Generous pay. Call Professor Kelly at extension 642.”

I rushed to the closest phone and called Professor Kelly’s office. If she was in charge of the project, that was all the incentive I needed to volunteer. She was the only beautiful female professor on the campus. I knew guys who took her classes just so they could stare at her cleavage for an hour every couple of days. I spoke to her assistant and made an appointment for that evening.

I had butterflies in my stomach when I arrived at Professor Kelly’s office for my appointment. She looked hot in a tight cashmere sweater that I assumed was a gift from an admirer. Her skirt came to just above her knees, the perfect length – not so short that it attracted criticism from her stuffy peers, but short enough to please her fans. Her pretty face was framed by fluffy, blonde hair. She had been conservative with her makeup, using only lipstick and two dabs of rouge.

“Larry, do you know what reincarnation is?” she asked.

“Isn’t that a belief that we live many lives, that after we die we come back as someone else? Personally, I think it’s nonsense.”

“Yes, that’s right. And I’m glad you are skeptical. You’ll make a better subject than you would if you were a believer. Do you know what regression is?”

“No, I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s possible to recall memories of past lives while under hypnosis. That’s what this project is about. I have received a grant to conduct this research. I would like to hypnotize you and try to regress you to a past life. I think you’ll find it interesting. It might even give you some insights into your present life.”

After we discussed how much I would be paid, she asked me to stretch out on the couch and make myself comfortable. She dimmed the lights, took a seat behind me, and began speaking to me in a soft monotone. I immediately became drowsy.

“Now you are relaxing more and more with each passing second. All of the tension is leaving your body. You feel as though you are floating on a cloud without a care in the world. Now I am going to count to three, and when I say three, you will fall into a deep state of relaxation. One… two… three. Now I want you to go back in time.”

A short time passed and then I began seeing images. Faces came toward me out of the darkness. It was as though I were going back in time and passing these people along the way. Then it happened – I was reliving a chapter of a previous life.

“Larry, can you see anything?” the Professor asked.

“Yes. I’m in a large room among dozens of people wearing white togas. They are laughing and joking in a strange language. I’m completely naked. A beautiful young woman is kneeling in front of me sucking my enormous cock. I sense that she is a slave. I’m looking down at the many scars on my body and getting a sense of my identity. I’m a famous gladiator. When I fight in the arena, I fight naked so the spectators can see my enormous cock swinging between my legs. The fighting always arouses me, and by the time I finish off my opponent, I always have an enormous hard-on. I’m not a slave, but a nobleman who fights for money, fame and women. I don’t know how I know these things, I just do.”

“Behind the slave girl, I see an older woman of about fifty laying on pillows. She and I are the only ones naked. A smiling man sitting next to the woman motions me forward. I get the impression that he is an important man, maybe a senator. I can’t understand everything they are saying, but I sense that they are husband and wife and that he wants me to knock her up. I’m mounting her and lining my cock up with her pussy. I’m pushing hard now as I try to penetrate her. Now I’m fucking her tight cunt. She’s very slick inside but my cock is so big that I have to push hard to get deep inside her. She’s bucking up against me. The husband is laughing and urging both of us on. She’s panting, clawing at my back and shouting “mi figlio”. I recognize those words; they mean “my son”. I’m fucking my own mother! She shrieks that she is coming, and I’m coming with her. I’m getting off of her now. Two muscular slaves are coming forward, taking her by the ankles, and holding her upside down. I’m losing it now. It’s fading away.”

I awoke and found the Professor standing above me with a look of disbelief on her face. “Oh, my God, Professor, it worked. It was the most incredible experience of my life. It felt like the real thing. It felt like I was there, reliving the whole thing. All of my senses were functioning.”

“I know all about it. You told me. ” That came as a surprise, because even though I vividly remembered the experience, I did not remember narrating it to her. She handed me a box of Kleenex, and said, “I think you had better go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. You had a little accident.”

My face turned as red as a beet when I saw the dark stain on my pants. I hurried to her small bathroom and did my best to clean up the mess. Even though I had never been more embarrassed in my life, I was also tremendously excited. I had always been skeptical about reincarnation. I suspected it was just wishful thinking by people who craved immortality. Now I knew that it was true. I had had an epiphany, and it changed my life forever.

I returned to the office and tried to apologize. She told me not to give it a second thought, that it was a bodily function and nothing more. As we listened to the audio tape of the session, my face once again turned red.

“Professor, I’m so sorry about the bad language. I don’t remember saying any of this.”

“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you call me Irene? We’re not in the classroom now. There’s no question in my mind that you had a life in Rome, or at least, in the Roman Empire. It would be nice to know which era you lived in.”

“Irene, please send me back. I’ll try to find out.”

“No. The chances of going back to that event in that particular life are virtually non-existent. Anyway, I never regress anyone more than once a day. I’m absolutely convinced that you had an authentic regression. I’ve never had a subject respond so quickly and provide so much detailed information. Come back the same time next week and we’ll try again.”

I tossed and turned that night. I could not stop thinking about my experience. I wondered about my life as a Roman gladiator. Had I died in the arena to the cheers of thousands of bloodthirsty spectators? Had I made my mother pregnant? I tried without success to hypnotize myself. I finally fell asleep.

I don’t know how I made it through that week. I couldn’t think of anything but my regression experience. I wasn’t getting enough sleep at night and my grades suffered. The week seemed like a month.

I was early for my next appointment with Dr. Kelly. I prayed that my experience of the previous week had not been a fluke. Irene looked even hotter than she had the last time. She had applied more makeup and unbuttoned her blouse all the way down to her brassiere. I tried not to let her heavenly cleavage distract me.

“You had better put this on before we begin,” she said, as she shoved a foil packet across the desk. I went to the bathroom and masturbated to get my cock hard enough for the condom, then returned to the office and stretched out on the couch. I tried to clear my mind of all distractions as Irene began her intentionally monotonous spiel. Faces, some beautiful and some hideous, came out of the darkness. Suddenly, I was there, in some distant place and time.

“Can you see anything, Larry,” Irene whispered.

“I’m naked and kneeling on a bed. A beautiful woman is lying naked in front of me. She is in her fifties, maybe even older, but still very beautiful. She is wearing a silver wig and a lot of jewelry. Baubles are attached to her nipples. There is a beauty mark on her cheek. Her arms are extended toward me. The bed is surrounded by dozens of people, some naked, some wearing clothes. I recognize the language from my French classes in high school. The people are shouting and laughing. They are saying, “Fuck her. Fuck your mother.”

“Through an open door, I can see people dancing. The women are all wearing white wigs and long, floor-length gowns. Many of them have one, or both breasts bared. I have seen the dance in movies and know that it is called the minuet. I’m climbing on top of my mother now. She is trying to stuff my big cock into her pussy. I’m in! She’s so slick that somebody must have had her before me. I’m pumping my cock in and out now while the others cheer me on. “Fuck her harder,” they are saying. “Fuck your mother harder. ” Oh, God, she’s fucking me back. It feels wonderful. Her big soft tits are against my chest. She smells like lilacs. She’s wrapping her legs around my waist and begging me to fuck her harder and faster. She’s screaming so loud that my ears are ringing. I’m making my mother come. Oh, fuck, now I’m coming. I’M SHOOTING MY LOAD INTO MY MOTHER! The others are pulling me off and another man is going forward to take my place. I’m losing it now. It’s fading out.”

I came out of the trance in time to see Irene adjusting her clothes. I suspect that her scientific detachment had given way to lust and that she had her hand down in her panties.

“It’s just amazing!” she said. “Two times, and both times you recalled sexual experiences with your mothers. If I didn’t know better, I would think you are trying to pull off a hoax. Have you ever had sexual thoughts about your mother in this life?”

“Well, sure. My mother is very beautiful. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t fantasize about, well, you know.”