The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Julia had given no indication as to a dress code for the cocktail party at her therapist’s home, but she did say she’d be wearing some kind of sexy dress. I pictured her in a tight little sleeveless number with her breasts and muscles bulging, the dynamic strength of her body so extreme that it would look like the garment’s seams might fail if she simply held her breath. The speed of my dick going from idle to fully hard convinced me to bring pants that had some chance of concealing, at least to some degree, what the woman’s body just fucking did to me.

It was much like that on the drive to Bethesda, my cock rising and falling with something approaching the regularity of oil-pumping machinery. It was only a little more than a week since I’d made that first trek to be with the woman, and my state of near-breathless anticipation was probably even greater this time. That was because I knew what she looked like naked now, my God, and what she could do, my double God.

The sky was a rich cobalt blue this time, with almost no clouds and low humidity. My state of mind was similar, in that I had clear objectives for this weekend, almost to the point of a script I wanted to follow. First, duh, was to fuck Julia again. And again and again, if possible. Second, or maybe more like 1-B, was to get her in the immersion state.

Julia’s attitude about that had been so dismissive the last time that I knew I could fail. Why not swing for the fences, then, when the alternative was never getting enough of her? There was a reason she’d told me about being so protective of her creative time, and when she was also so thoroughly and uniquely desirable, that placed her firmly in the power position in this relationship. The therapist still alive in me knew how fucked-up that thinking was—healthy relationships are based upon mutual attraction and cooperation, not the gaming of power positions. With a woman like Julia, though, I was in a position somewhat like Terri Thorngood had been in with her super-gorgeous boyfriend, Alexandre—Julia was too desirable, times a hundred. Unless I fundamentally changed our dynamic, I’d be pining for her body the entire summer.

“There is no way I’m going to let a woman like her slip away!” I vowed. And then, my mind playing absurdly with the comic book language that Terri’s younger self must have been filled with: “By great Odin’s long and curlies, she shall be hypnotized!”

I laughed at myself, but also wondered if I had become a terrible person, to think this way or be this way. The answer was almost certainly yes, but the course was set, and as though fucking Julia in her studio a week ago had firmly established Pavlovian responses in my body, my cock fully hardened when I caught sight of her building.

I tried to collect myself as I punched in the building’s security code and climbed the stairs to her floor. The scent of oil paint was in the hallway, and it got stronger as I drew nearer to her studio. “Christ,” I whispered, because I could hear my heart beating in my temples and inside my ears. Anticipation was very much an element in my bloodstream as I raised my arm to knock on the door.

“It’s unlocked!”

I turned the knob and entered. I expected to see Julia right there in front of me, and stopped short when she wasn’t.

“Lock it! I’m over here in the bedroom area,” I heard from my left.

I secured the door and turned that way, and could just make her out through the thin curtains that separated this entry space from where the bed was. Through the gauzy haze of the curtains between us, it looked like she was standing at the far end of that space with her back to me, wearing clothes that were pale violet in color.

I parted the curtain and stepped in, brought to a sudden stop by the force of my dick turning to stone. Julia did indeed have her back to me, looking compact and thickly powerful, the wonders of her physique stirringly displayed by the almost skintight lavender-colored sleeveless minidress she had on. Its cut would probably be called backless, which meant nearly all the musculature of her back was uncovered, almost to the top of her ass-crack.

I gulped, absolutely transfixed and thoroughly hardened by the woman’s back muscles. Back muscles—I had never really thought of them all that much before, probably because I’d never seen a back that was anything like this one. It was so developed, every muscle symmetrically popping on down to the woman’s trim waist and her flaring bubble-shaped ass.

“What do you think of the dress?” she asked, turning to face me. “I decided to buy something new.”

“Ohh…” I responded. Massive arm muscles and so much cleavage, the sleeveless cut of the dress looking somewhat overwhelmed by the volume of Julia’s tits.

“You like,” she said with a wide knowing smile, her eyes aimed at my groin. She stepped sideways two paces, letting the entirety of her legs come into view, the bed no longer in the way. “I haven’t dressed sexy like this in a very long time, because if I do…” She pointed at my insistent erection. “That happens, all over the place.”

I felt lightheaded from all the blood rushing to engorge my meat. The sheer condensed power in this woman’s curves…

I cleared my throat and the words that came out were, “You’re going to wear that? People will be… You’re so…”

She was smiling a little crookedly now, enjoying the way I was simultaneously flustered and horny. “What is it that I’m ‘so’? Let’s make a challenge of that description now, like we did on the phone. Two words this time. Describe what I’m ‘so’ in two words.”

With no hesitation this time, no concern that what I said might put her off, I said: “Explosive vitality. Crazed curvature. Monumental compactness. Breastacular broadness. And paranormal… muscles.”

Julia laughed, and her boobs moved. She pointed at the bed. “Don’t be shy, big boy. Take your shoes off. Take your pants off. Fuck it, take everything off.”

No thinking, just quickly and efficiently going from fully clothed to completely naked. She did the same and our bodies bounced onto the mattress at roughly the same time. Our tongues met, and my hands slid all over hard muscle after hard muscle, taking in the strength of a shoulder, the sheer width of a thigh, the astounding bulge of a calf.

Both of her hands went straight to my aching rod, clutching it and squeezing like she might never let go. She licked her lips, which I could tell was a true unconscious action, not play-acting. “You’re so damned big!”

She grabbed my shoulders and shoved me down onto my back, practically catapulting her huge breasts to either side of my erection. On top now, she wobbled her boobs all around my dick and up my chest, then buried my face in all that soft flesh.

For several seconds I couldn’t see, could hardly breathe, but my hands knew where to go and they descended down and then between her legs, fingertips brushing her pussy.

Julia’s upper body shot up, the woman straddling me with her legs in a kneeling position. Her eyes were shut for a couple of seconds and then they shot open, looking fierce. I was hit by a wave of pussy-scent and she sighed deeply, then lifted her arms into a prototypical he-man gesture, her biceps bulging.

Purring like a movie sex kitten, she said: “Let me ask you a question, big boy—wanna feel my muscles?”

I wasn’t given a chance to respond. In one quick motion her legs went from kneeling to squatting and her haunches lowered with lunar landing precision so she had the tip of my cock expertly ring-tossed inside of drenched pussy, a solid inch at first, and then suddenly two.

“Oh God!” I vented, shocked at the immediate tightening and having an idea of what would come next.

“Stay… completely… hard!” she commanded, as if I had a choice to be anything else.

She had her breasts in her hands and was essentially mauling them, head tilted back with her throat and chin prominent. She rocked back and forth, back and forth, and slowly I was pushing into her even deeper, those few outer inches of me feeling enormous as they spread her super-tight walls as far as she could stand it.

“I’m going to burst open!” she cried. “Too much! You’re too much!”

Somehow not, because that was the moment when her interior muscles came to life, their rhythms causing me to gasp, my dick drawn in something like an inch further, as if compelled by a conveyor belt.

“Don’t come yet!”

Her words were preposterous because of what was happening to make me come. It went into an even more preposterous gear all of a sudden, a wholly new variety of muscular contractions grabbing hold of my meat and squeezing those inches of me in a merciless way, the undulations tearing a cry of amazement from deep in my throat.

I could say I got even harder somehow again, like I was participating in a vaginal magic trick where Presto!, my cock was being made to become harder than hard, its renewed expansion pushing at vaginal walls with even more force, which caused Julia’s interior movements to penetrate into me even deeper and more effectively, which had her gasping and then screaming over and over that I was going to rip her apart, which I would swear had my cock wanting to grow so huge that it could cause irreparable damage. Before I could even fully comprehend that impulse she had me yelling and spurting furiously, my mighty flood and my voice blending with Julia’s near-simultaneous tsunami of wracking orgasms. Another and another and another climax erupted in her, eliciting screams of deliverance that escalated until the sounds became ruptured, broken in half. Then there was just stunned groaning, which might have been me, and a woman falling forward onto my face, massive pillowy boobs enveloping my neck and mouth.

Followed by temporary oblivion.

I knew exactly where I was when my eyes opened. I also knew, surprisingly quickly, that my eyes had been closed while I’d been temporarily lost in an aching dick-centered dream, the result of being fucked unconscious.

“Jesus fuuuuuuck…”

“You need to get cleaned up,” I heard from somewhere to my right, on the other side of the curtains that defined the bedroom space. “We should head out in about half an hour.”

Just hearing Julia’s voice had my balls trying to devise ways to resurrect my dick again. I knew I’d need to get up in a few minutes to shower the smells of sex from my body, but for the moment I just lay there and let reality settle into any brain cells that hadn’t yet gotten the picture.

Which was this: I was smitten beyond smitten, more hooked than any fish of any size that had ever been caught in any river or lake or ocean. Though my dick ached like she might have broken it, I was already craving more Julia-sex, even when I’d barely cleared away the cobwebs of having been literally fucked unconscious.

“Unbelievable,” I tested out my voice, before making myself get up and pad naked to her bathroom.

In the shower, a visual inspection showed no obvious signs of trauma, yet I had to be extra-careful when cleansing my entire groin area. I gently dabbed my cock dry before getting dressed, and when I took a few seconds to check-out my face in the mirror, there was something unsettling about the way my eyes stared back. It was as though they understood some things that mere mortals are not meant to know. It was though they were trying to tell me to run, before I found out more.

“I hope you’re putting on what you’ll wear to the party!” I heard through the door. “We should leave in about ten minutes!”

Yes, time really flies when you’re with a woman who can make you come so hard that you’re out cold for who knows how long. I’d brought a nice linen sport coat and a tie, and I got roughly halfway at tying the tie before I stared into my eyes again, and took it off. I didn’t know what it was, but some instinctual logic in me said I needed to be more casual than that. Or maybe, in the company of a sexual beast like Julia, my inner panther was repelled by anything that even resembled a leash.

“Hypnotize that woman, just fucking hypnotize her!” the panther reminded me.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, all set to go, I was met by the sight of Julia in her sleeveless minidress again, now wearing heels. I took in the deep line of cleavage, and the way the outer contours of her breasts pushed against her bulging biceps muscles, just as I’d seen in the restaurant when first meeting her. And wouldn’t you know, my cock did the seemingly impossible by skyrocketing to attention again.

“This dress is way too short, right? Too revealing up top, too.”

I tried to say something, and ended up having to clear my throat.

Her eyes were playful as she said, “You’re opinion is obvious. And you won’t be the only one tonight, depending on what I want. To cover with my shawl or not to cover—that is the question.”

Her eyes twinkled as she pulled some multi-colored fabric from a hook near the front door, and wrapped it around herself.

“And now?”

Now, most of her curves and bulging muscles were gauzily toned down beneath a complexity of colorful folds. Only her feet and ankles in the heels, plus a couple inches of her calves were visible, and while just that and her neck and cheerleader face were sexy as shit, I got it. This was one of the many strategies she employed to keep tantalizing images of her from appearing on social media.

“Subversive steaminess,” I said. “Underground oomph.”

“You’re getting better at these word games! Better yet, you’ve inspired me artistically.” She pointed to the tall heavy curtain that acted as a wall that separated us from her painting space, and continued, “In there, nine feet tall, are the first layers of what I think is going to be a truly incredible painting. It has about seven inches of you, so thick and glorious and beautifully lit, between my thighs with the rest of you inside. And with the scale of the painting, those visible seven inches are nearly three feet tall. I’m not embarrassed to say that I got myself off to the painting yesterday, even when it’s only sketched in so far. It’s going to be erotic beyond erotic, and I wonder how many times I’ll need to have a go at myself while painting it.”

No doubt because it so hugely, in a literal sense, spoke to her size fetish. “Can I take a peek before—”

“No, later. If I showed it to you right now, we’d grind on each other again and who knows if we’d even make it to the party. Tomorrow morning, promise. For now, let’s get going.”

We got going, down the stairs and out into warm evening sunshine. I deliberately fell a couple of steps behind Julia on the way to my car, and felt my cock re-hardening as my brain decoded the details of her shapeliness under the long colorful wrap. Really, all I could make out for certain was how immediately and dramatically her strong ankles flared out into her monster calves, expertly hidden for now. Just the tease of those few inches of flesh had my hormones boiling afresh.

“You’ll be able to drive with that hard-on, right?” she asked inside the car.

I nodded and got us going. Out on the street I asked if she wanted me to crank the a.c higher because of her wrap, and she responded by lifting her rear and freeing her body of the concealing fabric.

I couldn’t help glancing sideways and blew out air as my dick screamed for mercy. The width of her thighs, the size of her fucking arm muscles, the thrust of those tits…

“What are you thinking right now?” she asked.

I thought she must know, but I said it anyway. “You’ve given me a size fetish. Because you, in that purple dress…”

“Lavender. It’s a particular variation of purple.”

“Lavender, then. But what I wonder is… Can there be such a thing as a riot inside someone’s home?”

“You think I look hot enough to start a riot?”

“If you don’t cover up some with that shawl, you might.”

“Eyes on the road,” she reminded me.

I obeyed, and then we were on the interstate. I asked Julia if she would know anyone at this party other than me and Grace, and her therapist.

“I assume Alessandra’s receptionist, Robin, will be there. Hell, as far as I know she may be the one making every single arrangement for this party. I can’t say that I really know her, but she seems very together. Gorgeous, too. She reminds me a little of the Mary Ann character on Gilligan’s Island, all big eyes and wholesome smile. Only she wears glasses and she’s ten times sexier.”

Great, someone new to stir my loins. I glanced over at Julia again, taking in the way the diagonal cut her seatbelt emphasized the fullness of her tits. As the miles swept by, I kept glancing over like that, checking Julia out.

She caught me looking and let out a little laugh. “You can’t parade around the party with that hard-on all night, you know.”

I nodded, and made a point of affixing my eyeballs to the information on the car’s navigation display. We’d be there in about twenty minutes.

“I haven’t worn a show-off dress like this in such a long time,” Julia mused, right before her phone pinged. She took it out, glancing at a text. “It’s Grace. Looks like she’ll be there ten minutes ahead of us. By the way, when we arrive, they’re going to make us surrender our phones. I got that promise from Alessandra. Without that, I would have dressed in a completely different way.”

This was startling news. “Wait a minute. Every single person there tonight…”

“No phones allowed, because no photos.”

“Alessandra did that just for you?”

“It’s not unreasonable. Didn’t you see how that was part of the etiquette at the Thailand spa in White Lotus? Some people are dying for a chance to unplug for even one full day. At worst, no one will melt tonight if they’re separated from their devices for a few hours.”

A few minutes later we were out of traffic and into an entirely different world, of quiet curving lanes where more than half of the homes were outright mansions, semi-hidden behind stately trees and stone walls. I knew from a past visit that McLean, Virginia had a charming little downtown, but this area was a version of suburbia that spoke of nothing but money and money and even more money.

“Fuck,” I said, as we ed one house that was practically a castle, complete with twin circular towers.

“Drive slower,” Julia said. “And just concentrate on the road while I…”

She unbuckled and leaned in to unzip my pants. The seatbelt alert chimed as she pulled out my hard-on, leaning to gently kiss and finger-job it.

“Julia, what are—”

“You’ve been hard this entire drive, and we can’t have you going room to room tonight with your dick knocking into things.”

I navigated a wide curve. A glance down showed the blond on Julia’s hair, and her neck and those spectacular back muscles again. She was planting little kisses, a much gentler approach than anything she’d delivered before.

“Michael? Back at my place earlier… You came so hard that you ed out.”

The alert kept chiming and I was breathing heavily. “True,” I replied, then “Hah!” as her tongue flicked.

“Don’t you dare out now. I’ll be gentle to help.”

“That’s good…” I said softly.

She went to all finger action to speak again. “I didn’t out earlier, but I’ve never come that hard before. Every time with you it’s been like that, and I want you to know… I make sex all about me being in control because I like that, and I can do that. In bed I’m kind of a control freak; I know that. But when I go over the edge, when you send me there… I’m out of control, really out of control when I climax. That’s new for me.”

Great to know, and great that the road had straightened, and there were no other cars behind us when we were going about fifteen miles an hour.

“I see colors when I come,” she added.

“Colors? Like… Because you’re an artist, you mean?”

“What I mean is that I never have before. I don’t know why it’s happening, but colors wash through my eyes or behind my eyes, brilliant watermelon pinks and aquas and yellows… It’s almost like some mixture of a fireworks display and the northern lights as I keep climaxing. It feels so good and it looks good, too.”

That was all new to me, so I kept my mouth shut. No colors in my orgasmic world, but I sure could empathize with the wonderment, all because of the things her pussy and throat could do. Why not have freaky orgasms when she was a freak, maybe the way that certain circus performers are freaks.

“When we’re back home tonight, I want to lift you up and make you fuck me while I’m standing. I think it’s time you experience just how strong I am.”

“Oh jeez…” I breathed, my cock desperately wanting that right now, but my brain overriding those urges to focus on the road.

“Hold on now, I’m going to use my mouth more,” she warned, and then she was giving me rapid head.

It wasn’t genius deep-throating because she didn’t want us to crash, and there was a car behind us now, impatient in its closeness.

“Juli…Yahhh!” I half-roared as I shot my load into her mouth.

I involuntarily tapped the brakes and the trailing car honked its irritation. Gasping, I powered my window down and gestured them to , and they did.

Upright in her seat and buckled in again, Julia said, “That should help your thing behave in polite company. And I’ll have the taste of you in my smile at the beginning.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

“I do! I really do believe I’m becoming quite the mega-sexual, and… Hold on, looks like her place is just after this curve. It’ll be on the right…”

Alessandra’s place did come up on our right a few seconds later. I slowed and gawked while breathing out a low, “Holyyy…”

I wouldn’t know exactly what to call the style of the home, other than grand and European-inspired. There was beautiful stone fencing and ornate iron gates, and a curving driveway leading to what was, once again, some kind of mix between a mansion and a castle. And land, so expertly designed and manicured that it looked like Julia’s therapist lived in a private park.

“She’s a really good therapist,” Julia said, as if that could explain everything.

We were met up the driveway by a small posse of parking attendants, and Julia had not been kidding about our phones being withheld. We were told, rather firmly, to place our phones in the Audi’s glovebox.

Following that, there was a shared moment of wonderment that ed among the parking crew, that corresponded with Julia getting out of the car. She had her concealing shawl only partially in place, and she asked the attendant who seemed to be the boss: “Did you have to surrender your phones, too?”

His eyes were wide but he got his voice to work. “Sure did. That’s why we have these walkie-talkies,” and he patted a device attached to his belt.

“Then fuck it, I’m living dangerously tonight!” Julia declared, bunching up her concealing shawl and throwing it into the car before some kid drove it away.

Julia’s reveal-effect on the small group was instantaneous, eyeballs parked on her curves and jaws going slack. I heard a breathy “Jeeeeeezuzz”, before one guy whispered to another, “Holy fuck, she could just carry the cars!” A few seconds later, another hushed question whispered from mouth to ear: “Do you think they’re real?” And the response, “Would you care?”

Mega-rocking her short, clingy dress, Julia looked like a woman whose raw sexual gravity could bend or break all the rules in the world. I ed her at the bottom of a flight of marble steps, and thought I heard someone behind us making an explosion sound with their mouth.

“Get used to it,” Julia said, seeking my hand and taking hold. She leaned close and said, “Listen, I like that people will see us as a couple tonight, and you’ll need to remain calm when people give out vibes that they want to see me naked or fuck me. It’s so rare that I show myself off, and tonight… Don’t judge me if I indulge in the attention sometimes, okay?”

I nodded. “Girls just wanna have fun.”

“Exactly. We can… Whoa! Check out how tall these doors are! Almost like a giant’s castle in a fairy tale.”

We had reached the top and I knew the logic of the oversized doors. “I was at a house with doors like these in the Hamptons a couple of years ago. Some people need them huge so paintings like yours can fit through them.”

“I never thought of that. Alessandra owning one of my paintings someday… I could get into that.”

We stepped through the towering entranceway and stopped short, caught off-guard by the architectural scale and opulence of this first room. It was an anteroom, although the term “room” wasn’t quite adequate to the task when “grand palatial entrance hallway” would be a much better descriptor.

“Moneyyy,” Julia breathed out, surveying the marble floors and the larger-than-life marble statues that stood on pedestals in various locations within the space.

The overall aesthetic inside was classic Italian, although high above was a geometrically carved wood ceiling with two long stained-glass skylights, the style of those colored glass designs more akin to Art Deco’s angular abstraction.

Julia slowly walked forward, craning her neck to take it all in. “It’s just gorgeous!”

It was, everywhere, and now that we were inside we could see that there were doorways and windows further on that opened to walkways and gardens at the back of the house. Strolling in that direction, with the sounds of gathered people becoming more distinct with every step, we ed a massive gold-framed painting that I was pretty sure was a Titian.

“So, just how much does your therapist charge for a session?”

“It’s actually a sliding scale, based on ability to pay.”

I offered that same courtesy up to a point, because I believed in the social justice of it and could afford to be generous. This woman, though, was living in an entirely different financial universe. “So Alessandra is married to a billionaire?”

“I thought she was single, but…”

We could hear the murmur of conversations much more distinctly now, coming from a crowd further in. A few steps further and we were at the edge of a bustle of well-dressed people, with staff serving hors de ouvres and drinks on silver trays. This second room was even larger than the previous one, and through stone archways and high windows we could see how perhaps dozens of guests were outside in a beautiful courtyard and surrounding sculpture gardens.

“So much fabulous art,” Julia whispered.

It really wasn’t overpowering in quantity; it was that every oil painting or marble or steel sculpture belonged in a museum. It was a museum-like crowd, too, predominantly white with many of the men looking like they would have “the Third”, trailing after their last names, while the women were mostly trim and somehow stately in their designer dresses and rarified evening gowns.

Surveying the unfamiliar faces, I spied overall loveliness and a flash of cleavage in a stylish blue dress—it was Grace, deciding to play-up her figure with her hair more manicured than I’d ever seen. She was ensconced in conversation with a middle-aged bearded man, and when she noticed us her eyebrows rose up like draw-bridges—she had ed Julia, going much further than she had in flaunting her physical abundance.

That dynamic of riveted eyeballs and arrested sentences was taking place here and there throughout the crowd, Julia’s curves and muscles acting like a kink in the thread of multiple conversations.

Grace wasted no time in breaking off her engagement with the bearded guy, striding our way. “Michael, it feels like it’s been so long!”

I received an embrace where my friend made sure, as she sometimes did, that I was given a reminder that she had very substantial tits.

“And you, good grief!” she aimed at Julia, before bending at the waist somewhat so she could hug my date boob-to-boob.

“It’s good to see you, Grace. We…” Julia’s expression changed as Grace made sure their breast lingered.

“Mmmm…” eased from Grace’s lovely lips.

Julia’s own lips lifted into a crafty smile while her thick arms, wrapped around Grace’s torso, tensed. “Liking the way they feel? Get closer then.”

“Uff!” Grace gasped, eyes going wide with near-panic. She looked up at me and I wondered for a second whether I should intervene. “Julia, don’t… Oh fuck! Don’t break me in half, okay?”

Julia relented, and stepped back. She smiled in a relaxed way, whereas Grace looked shell-shocked.

She might be horny, too. What had just transpired hadn’t quite caused a commotion, but there were plenty of eyes glued to the two women.

A lovely young attendant in uniform hovered a few paces to our left, holding a tray of filled fluted glasses. She obviously wanted to offer drinks to us, but looked nervous.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, approaching her and taking a glass from the tray. “They’ll have some, too. I think they’ve calmed down now.”

A few seconds later, all three of us had glasses of bubbly in our hands, and Grace said, “I already had a glass. It’s some kind of amazing Prosecco; you’re going to love it.”

Julia raised her glass and sipped. “Wow! That’s special!”

“There’s quite the spread of food out in the courtyard, too,” Grace offered. “Do you want to…”

Downing half of her glass in one long gulp, Julia said, “I’m going to go find our host. Robin, too; I’m so curious about what she’ll look like if she’s all dolled up.”

“Oh be still!” Grace said, placing a hand on her heart.

“I know,” Julia responded. “So listen, take care of my man for a few minutes. I’ll be back.”

Julia turned and strode off, and Grace was just like I was, our eyes glued to her retreating form—along with perhaps ninety percent of anyone else in the oversized room.

“A woman with a fucking body like that… I sure hope she doesn’t topple any pillars tonight. And she’s calling you ‘her man’ now? My dear friend Michael, what’s your secret?”

I huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Honestly, I wish I knew. I’m great in bed, mind you, but even so…”

“I don’t get it. How can you not be hard every second that you’re in a room with her?”

“She, um… She helps me with that.”

“When I felt her tits just then… And I really did get scared for a couple of seconds! I think she could actually squeeze the life out of me! Those muscles, those boobs…”

The word “boobs” came out at too high a volume, and several heads turned our way.

“Grace…”

She snickered. “Oh, you’re such a fuddy-duddy. But there must be something about you, I’ll give you that. God knows what you do to keep her around.”

Normally I’d have a laundry list of perverse immersion misdeeds to keep hidden, only with Julia I shared the same question. “Should we go outside and get some food?” I asked.

“Sure. I could drink another glass of this bubbly, too; it’s outright addictive. As for you, there’s a full bar out there. And I overheard some old coot talking about there being some beyond-the-beyond single malts.”

I nodded. There were so many tiers of scotch with the simple rule that the longer it’s been aged, the more special and expensive it is. And with the extreme wealth I was seeing all round me in this house…

“Let’s go check it out.”

Though the food spread outdoors was indeed beyond-the-beyond, I ate almost nothing because I didn’t want to disturb the lingering echoes on my tongue and maybe even down into my lungs, of the best-tasting scotch to ever burn my throat. That one little glass… How much money had I gently swished around and under my tongue there—a thousand dollars?

I’d asked the bartender for the very best scotch he had, and he’d tilted his head and asked, “Is your name Michael by any chance?”

Thank God it was, because he rather furtively pulled out a bottle of Glenfiddich 50. Fifty, as in fifty years old. It was the rarest of the rare, the best of the best.

It was so good that I thought and came close to whispering out loud, It’s like being assaulted by Julia’s pussy, or feeling-up Mira’s legs.

I was standing alone because Grace had gone in to look for Julia, and also our host. The evening light was fading and fireflies punctuated the gathering gloom, especially further back in the gardens. I didn’t leave the main courtyard where other partygoers were gathered into small conversational groups, but I did take in the surrounding landscape in a wide visual sweep, and the same with the back of Alessandra’s mansion. The house was long, like looooong. I tried to plumb the memory banks and recall any home I’d ever been in that matched this one in sheer size or cultured opulence, and I came up blank.

I could have made a point of mingling, but I wasn’t there to network or make new friends. Every now and then I’d catch sight of someone who looked familiar—wasn’t that older man over there a talking head on CNN? And the older woman to my left with the turkey neck and big eyes—I was pretty sure she was in the U.S. House of Representatives.

A power crowd, that’s what this was. The more I studied the faces, the more obvious that became. Standing just inside the house, framed by the arched entryway, was one of the President’s cabinet secretaries, Interior or Commerce or whatever. He was almost bookended by two powerfully built men in black—Secret Service?

On a relative scale of power and influence, I must be one of the nobodies here, an out-of-towner with no connections to a single billionaire. I was only allowed to attend this party because my sex-bomb of a girlfriend was one of the host’s clients.

But no, I reminded myself with an inner smile—they have obvious power and influence. Let them have their fame and enormous stock portfolios, and various platforms for their opinions. No one here knew my name or what I did, which meant I didn’t even need a secret identity to hide my superpower, which I wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world.

A lovely woman with supermodel looks and height stepped out into the night, and I might have fixated on her if I hadn’t gotten a glimpse of a dark-haired beauty ing behind her, with a truly extreme set of boobs. That unknown woman was inside the house, and though I could track the black of her hair for a few additional seconds, her voluminous rack and the rest of her body disappeared behind a wall of sport coats and evening wear.

My feet were moving towards the open doorway all on their own, as though magnetized by the monster breasts I’d just glimpsed. Before I could enter and follow, though, Grace stepped outside, trailed by a tallish beauty with legs so long and fine that they stopped me in my tracks.

“Michael, hey, this is my amazing therapist and our host tonight, Alessandra Fontaine. Alessandra, this is Michael, my poor excuse for a best friend.”

An extremely elegant bare arm was extended, and I managed to take the offered hand and shake it politely, even with thoughts and reactions crashing into one another inside my brain and exhausted dick. This was Grace’s therapist? I pegged her as being my age, give or take a year, with model-worthy facial features and an all-around knock-out figure. Her lips were full, her lipstick expertly understated, and above were bright intelligent eyes. I kept my eyes on hers, though I wanted to study the long and shapely legs down below, which I’d noted were sheathed in semi-sheer black stockings.

“Welcome to my home, Michael. Grace has told me so much about you.”

That came as a surprise, and I instinctively responded, “She has?”

“Actually, no. But she did say you sleuthed out the selection of single malts. Did you get a taste of the Glenfiddich 50?”

I raised my glass, nearly empty.

“And did it meet expectations?”

“And then some,” I replied, looking down as though to study my glass, but actually absorbing another quick glimpse of this woman’s shapely legs.

Our host took a half-step towards me, very close. My heart started hammering in my chest, because all of a sudden it felt like she was seeing me, effortlessly peering in and poking around in all my dark corners.

I cleared my throat and took a half step back, and said, “Your scotch is actually one more item checked off my bucket list.”

Alessandra smiled broadly, and holy shit what cheekbones, and a perfectly even set of teeth. “I’ll get the word into the right ears, that you should have as much of it as you want tonight. But a word of caution…”

“I won’t overindulge,” I responded automatically, thinking of the drive back to Julia’s.

“No, not that.” Her eyes narrowed a little, becoming crafty. “Maybe you know what it is they say about bucket lists? They never grow shorter because the universe always adds new desires to replace the completed ones.”

“Ah, right.” Which honestly should have been, I wonder if I should add you to my bucket list.

“It’s like a cosmic law, and when combined with the frailties of human nature…”

She spoke softly, intimately, as though we’d become separated from all that was going on around us, even Grace. The way she peered so deeply into my eyes gave me goosebumps.

Leaning in again, almost as if what she had to say was conspiratorial in nature, she continued, “As a fellow therapist, you’re well aware how fickle our natures can be, and how powerful our desires. We rationalize our choices, but so much of the time that’s like dressing-up unruly trolls with clothing intended for innocent, governable children. Most people do that without knowing it for their entire lives, but we’re more informed, yes? Our training gives us unique insights, and we swim a little differently through these seas of desiring, and hoping, and needing.”

Her words were more like those of a sexed-up philosopher than a nuts-and-bolts therapist. Something in their delivery also had the taste of a personal challenge that I could either accept or decline, like she knew me to be a novice karate practitioner and she was the black belt master wanting to see if my ego permitted the correct amount of respect. Or, perhaps it was the reverse of that, where the ego of this rich-as-fuck woman needed to feel itself on top, and she couldn’t resist a bit of professional dick-measuring. Like a child, taunting, “My practice and my house and my understanding is bigger than yours.”

If so, there was something incongruously attractive about it, no doubt because she was so attractive. In listening, it was like I heard her words broken down into melodic component parts, sound and meaning easing out of that lustrous mouth with string accompaniment. All of that while down below, just barely in my peripheral vision, were the black-clad legs that I might want to pluck as if they were angelic harp strings.

Alessandra backed off and said, “He’s shy,” to Grace. Then, with her eyes boring into mine even deeper than before: “I didn’t expect shyness from you. Grace has mentioned you a couple of times and I would have thought… But I see complexities inside, a capacity for deep secrets and the need for your true self to be hidden.”

“I, um…” I managed to utter, instinctively taking half a step backwards. It felt like I was being probed by a psychic, or scanned by some new kind of anti-secrecy machine.

“She’s an intense one, right?” Grace nudged my arm. “And you aren’t even on her couch!”

Alessandra smiled again. “Sorry. Grace is right that I should dial things down. You’re out of your element here; I should tread more carefully. But it’s not just me that puts you off-balance, right?”

Was I off-balance? I probably was.

“Tonight is not just any night, Michael, and this bucket list of yours…”

“Yes?” I felt compelled to ask, almost like I was addressing some kind of mythological oracle.

“You’re going to need a much bigger bucket.”

I came to attention in a different way. “What does that mean?”

Alessandra’s response was a knowing laugh, and somehow that drew my eyes to her chest, and her shoulders and arms. Christ, she was both different than and similar to Mira—longer neck and arms and perhaps oh-so slightly smaller breasts—but with her gorgeous features and the lovely legs down there, it was like they’d been molded in the same factory.

Mira’s legs were better, of course, but she had never looked at me like this, nor looked into me this way. A chill of a thought zipped into my brain, that if Mira had been able to see what this woman could see, she never would have trusted me enough to end up on my couch, and under my influence.

“Michael, I know I just said I should dial myself down, but can I let you in on a little secret?”

I nodded affirmatively, more or less reflexively. She stepped forward again, so close that I could smell past the subtle perfume she was wearing, meaning I could smell her. My cock responded, not by rocketing to attention but by tingling with a weird kind of anticipation.

As a warm whisper in my right ear: “Bucket lists are all about desires. And you, dear Michael, are going to have your desires and your very sense of purpose enlarged this weekend. You’ve heard of Miracle Gro soil, yes? I understand my gardeners sometimes use it. The plants really don’t need the extra boost because the sun and the rain provides; nature itself provides. But they are cared for, trimmed and shaped, given special attention. All of that, with the special boost of that soil, and the right attention… There’s an equivalent to all of that, for select people. People with the right stuff, you might say. People like…”

“Me?” my mouth said, though my brain didn’t exactly compute. But something was vibrating deep in my body, like there was a gong sounding inside. Or a fire alarm.

Alessandra’s eyes smiled. “Yes, you. Because we both know you’ve been planted in very special soil.”

She stepped back and I opened my mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about. She lifted a single finger, a simple gesture that communicated so much. Silence for now, it said. You’ll know so much more, soon, it said.

My mouth was open, maybe just to suck in extra oxygen. I dared to look down and stare directly at Alessandra’s legs, which looked like black and mysterious diamond-patterned sex, and a surge of heat originating in my balls spread though me like a virus.

Suddenly, the diamond-patterned legs turned because the entire woman turned, some other party-goer vying for her attention. Alessandra said the man’s name and they hugged with one of her hands remaining on his back, guiding him towards the interior of the house.

Grace started to giggle. “Anyone else would look at you and think you’d just seen a ghost, but I know better. What you just experienced is my therapist’s laser beam awareness. And, let’s be honest, her gorgeous legs.”

My head was shaking, as though to deny the obvious. But really, I was just trying to clear my thoughts.

Grace nudged me. “I’ve imagined the two of you meeting before, but it never occurred to me that you’d meld into some sort of whispering therapist unit like that. What was it that she said to you? For a minute there you looked… I don’t know. Haunted?”

“I can’t really say, Grace.”

“Secretive, just like she said? I did hear that.”

“No, it’s because everything she said was cryptic, stuff about life purpose and growth… I feel sort of fuzzy-headed, actually.”

“Yeah, well, believe me, I can relate. Sometimes when I’m done with one of our sessions, I feel like it might take days to assimilate everything she said to me. Also, there’ve been times when I needed to find somewhere private to have a heated go at myself.”

A lightbulb switched on. “Wait a minute. The last time we had lunch together…”

“Eons ago.”

“You were talking about someone who tempted you, someone who’s thighs… At first I thought it was Julia, but that was me mixing things up. I get it now. And yeah, your therapist’s legs are just—”

“You’re wrong. But close.”

“I guess I’m still confused, then.”

“But it’s true—what gods above would even allow a therapist to have looks like Alessandra has, or those freaking ray-gun eyes?”

“She’s loaded, too. That’s rather obvious.”

My friend scanned the crowd all around us and said low, “People having this much wealth should just be illegal.” Then, out of nowhere with a long sigh, “I think there might be something wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think about sex all the time, even though I get plenty of it with Lucinda. That’s probably the real reason I’m in therapy again.”

Was she saying this to me because deep down, some part of her was aware that this was my fault? Months ago I’d juiced her sex-jets to get my entire dominoes game going, and had I done more to my friend than I’d realized? If I carefully read through my secret notes, looking for even the slightest misstep, would my fingerprints be all over her psychological issues?

“Maybe I shouldn’t have even come tonight,” Grace said, stepping back and scanning the nearby crowd. “Too much super-fine pussy teasing the goods, you know? Like Julia tonight, my God! She’s in take-no-prisoners mode and she’s not alone in that. Have you seen the boobs from the Far East yet?”

Maybe I had. “Bouncing black hair and out to there?” I made an indication with my hands. “Just a glimpse.”

“I don’t have any idea who she is but I’ve dubbed her Elle, because I swear she must have freaking L-cups!”

I didn’t know what to say. A couple of well-heeled types were looking disapprovingly at Grace—that last bit about the boobs had almost been a shout. But the real discomfort came from being in the wake of Alessandra and her X-ray eyes, and her talking index finger.

Just standing there being quiet for a few moments, a truth settled into me that I wasn’t very different than Grace—I thought about sex all the time too, like all the time.

“What are you thinking?” Grace asked.

About sex of course, but in a scattershot way. “Julia’s been gone a long time.”

“She’s probably in the center of a circle of horny irers. I saw her a little while ago, and she seemed to be having the time of her life. Everybody gawking, powerful men behaving like moonstruck little boys…” Grace looked around, and continued, “It’s not my imagination, is it, that there are an unusual number of beautiful women at this party? Me, Julia, Alessandra, Miss Unknown L-cups… And we haven’t even run into Alessandra’s assistant yet, Robin. She must be here somewhere, and just wait until you get an eyeful of that one.”

She was right that this was not an ordinary crowd, and something in the atmosphere beyond the obvious wealth made me think of Alessandra’s simple but communicative hand gesture, and what that might portend. It was almost like there were breadcrumbs here, lures from a fairy tale that wanted to draw me towards some kind of extraordinary experience just over the horizon.

Simultaneously, there was an instinctual tingling in my spine that urged me to retrieve my car and drive away as fast and as far as I could, getting plenty of distance between me and the shining teeth of some big bad wolf.

Only I couldn’t drive away because… “Julia,” I said.

Grace nodded. “Let’s go find her. You being on her arm again might help save dozens of couples’ relationships tonight. Or worse, maybe keep a bunch of dicks from getting so hard that they break right off.”