The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Many of the party-goers had migrated to the back bedroom, using the dance space as intended. The music was fast-paced Caribbean/trance fusion, and the moves were not at all ordinary, as perhaps half of those dancing were professionals. Mira was in the mix, and oh my God was it sinful the way she looked and the way she could make her body do those things.

She saw me reflected in the mirrored wall and her eyes went crafty right before she did some sort of spiraling leg-widening sink-towards-the-floor move, nearly a full split that had the hem of her dress sliding upwards, cream-colored bikini panties visible all the way to her waist. People whooped and cheered and I was afraid my dick might surge and vent like a steam-whistle, so I quickly backed away, then pivoting towards the kitchen.

I had my eye out for Dee and found her talking with Taylor near the kitchen sink. Neither of them saw me and I ducked back, not really wishing to engage with the clueless husband again. I stood alone, not sure where to be, and was saved by Grace, who slipped past me with a quick, “Taylor needs to see his wife dancing tonight! She’s on fucking fire!”

It was probably a spontaneous and compulsively erotic dance that should be titled “Sexual Immersion Therapy’s Tangled Web”, the woman’s hormones turned into pornographic micro-choreographers, with runaway energy flowing from her pussy out to her limbs.

A few seconds later Grace brushed past again, this time pulling Taylor by the arm. I wasted no time, hurrying to the kitchen to get hold of Dee. I wanted to get out of there, away from any more encounters with the woman I’d turned so explosive.

Dee was looking at photos magnetized to Lucinda’s refrigerator. I gently placed my hand on her back with a soft, “Hello again.”

“Where did you go?”

I was about to answer when the music went even louder, vibrating the floor under our feet.

“Are you someone who dances?” Dee half-shouted.

I had to shout, too. “Sometimes, but tonight… They’re mostly professional dancers in there! Actually, I think I should just take you home, if that’s okay with you!”

She stepped back and looked up at me. I wasn’t sure what signs she was reading but she smiled, and without a word she took my hand and pulled me to a chair where she had a button-up sweater draped over the back.

Grace came in just then and she couldn’t decide whether to look happy or disappointed when we informed her that we were leaving. The two women hugged, and it seemed to me that Grace held on longer and tighter than was polite, with a movement of her upper body that must have been like copping a feel with her own tits. She said something into my date’s ear and Dee laughed.

When it was my turn to hug my best friend good-bye, she beckoned me to lean down and whispered into my ear: “Read the tag of her bra and tell me the exact size later; I have a bet with Lucinda.”

I shook my head in exasperation and Dee shouted, “What did she say?”

“Grace being Grace!” I replied, suggesting we leave the back way down the outside stairs. Just like that we were out into the cool night air, where I finally felt like I could take a deep and easy breath.

At street level I led Dee out the gate at the back, and around to my Audi. I played the gentleman by opening her door for her, and I could see that she appreciated the gesture. Once inside I didn’t stare, but I was aware of her movements as she fastened herself with the seatbelt and shoulder strap, the shoulder harness cutting a diagonal between her breasts. It had been some time since I’d had a woman in the enger seat of my car, and even Joyce had not had such an intoxicating figure.

When I checked the side mirrors before pulling out, I stared at Dee’s tits for a couple of seconds without her being aware. And then I thought—why even bother to hide how much I wanted to get my hands and tongue all over them? That bathroom encounter was confirmation that I had Mira sex in my immediate future, and that meant the clock was already ticking on any time Dee and I could have to spend together.

And so I let the ogling linger and Dee caught me looking. “I can do the same lift and separate trick with a shoulder bag. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”

“Please do.”

“Should I try to cover them with my arms? You’re becoming wicked, and obvious.”

“And you’re…” I wasn’t sure how to finish. I went with, “You’re a very lovely woman. Sue me for noticing.”

“You were about to say ‘you’re stacked’, weren’t you?”

“I probably was. Guilty as charged.”

“More like supercharged,” she quipped, and I couldn’t tell whether she was souring on my interest in her curves or not.

She gave me her address and I put it into navigation. We got going, the car nearly soundless as it moved, and I leaned into that quiet by recalling the way Mira had squeezed my dick through my khakis. I was going to find out, very soon, whether Mira Cassidy could take the whole of me inside her; there was not one shred of doubt in my mind about that.

As for Lucinda kissing me and bragging about how well she could suck a dick… I truly had no idea what to think about that.

“I really would like to know what Grace whispered to you right before we left,” Dee broke the silence. “I’m sure it was something lurid.”

Could this be a gateway towards sex talk? “Not surprisingly, because we’re talking about Grace, she and Lucinda have different guesses as to your bra size. She wants me to find out and settle a bet.”

I thought Dee might say something like, “Oh, that Grace!”, or “What makes anyone think you’ll ever be in a position to know?” But she moved forward, not back. “The band size is 34. Why don’t you give me your best guess as to the cup size.”

My cock stirred. This was some serious flirting, like we were already several moves into a sex game. “Kayyy,” I said, drawing the sound out like I could be saying “okay”, or musing on a K-cup.

She caught on and giggled. “Oh come on, I’m hardly that big!”

I shoulder-shrugged, hands on the wheel with my thoughts already inside her bra, whatever the size. Even Rosita wasn’t a K, although she was close. I had loved every second of getting my pipe pumped by those gigantic tits, and Dee’s were certainly capable of doing the same.

After several moments of charged silence, Dee said, “You’re trying to be a gentleman now, by not saying anything more on the subject.” Then she added, “There was a married man at the party who sure seemed smitten by my figure. A heart surgeon; we spoke towards the end and he was quite the flirt. He made a point of letting me know his profession, like he was preening.”

Well well. “Taylor Cassidy,” I said.

“That’s the one. Some men just go loopy over big boobs, you know?”

His wife had them, and I had felt them up half an hour ago. I couldn’t help picturing my cock squeezed between Mira’s breasts, her eyes filled with the kind of fever I’d witnessed inside that bathroom.

A concerning thought suddenly popped up, that Mira might find some privacy and call me. I switched my phone off when we stopped at a light, taking no chances. With the energy of naughty Mira rising as I’d seen, she could end up fucking Taylor half to death once they got home, channeling into him some of the energy that had been set afire while kissing and groping me. Or, just as likely, she’d call me the rest of the night until I answered, seeking phone sex.

“Did I say something inappropriate?” Dee asked. “You’ve gone very quiet.”

She’d been talking about Taylor ogling her tits. I couldn’t hide how much I desired them, and did focusing on them or speaking about them too much become a negative?

“No, it’s just… Maybe it’s a fine balance sometimes, between showing attraction and being creepy about it. What you were saying about other men gawking… What I mean to say is that I sure don’t want to come off as being creepy. At the same time…”

“Any lovely woman can tell you that attention is double-edged. Too much from the wrong person and it can be awful. Not enough from someone you want to notice… Anyway, you’re doing just fine. You may have even earned yourself a gold star.”

She touched my right thigh for just an instant, almost like she’d been seeking my elbow but missed. A couple of seconds later her hand was back on my thigh, very gently, like the awarding of this theoretical gold star gave us touching privileges.

At the next red light I found myself glancing to see how Dee’s features and boobs caught the color. Her rack looked great with red highlights, and I just wanted to bury my face in those things.

Maybe the upsurge of lust in me did something to the air in the car because Dee inhaled deeply, then let the breath out. “In case you were wondering, I’ve had a wonderful first date with you, Michael.”

The light turned green and I wanted that change of color to symbolize Dee’s permission to grope her tits until I knew by touch exactly how big they were. I could see on the navigation screen that we were almost at her street. I lightly cleared my throat and ventured, “The night isn’t necessarily over.”

“True,” she replied, then added, “We’re almost there, just halfway up this block.”

Her hand was no longer on my thigh. “Dee,” I said, driving slowly. I was lost as to what words should come next. I wanted to kiss her, politely to begin with. But with the tiniest signal from her that I could have more…

“It’s there on the right with the yellow porch light.”

There was a generous parking spot almost right there, and I was able to just glide in. I didn’t turn the car off, so she could open her door any time she wanted.

She noticed that and said, “The gentleman in you again, letting me choose to leave without a goodnight kiss. If that’s what I want.”

“Do you want?” I asked, with more calm than I felt.

“What I want… But I never invite a man into my house on a first date. I already told you my policy on that. But you could definitely kiss me.”

I killed the engine, then unbuckled my restraint. She did the same and our bodies met somewhere near the car’s middle. She was the first to ease in a tongue, and I squeezed her tighter to me.

There was nothing tentative to the way we were kissing; we weren’t fumbling teenagers and the energy between us felt essential, and raw, and shared. I could almost forget that Mira had kissed me with even more force earlier in the night, followed by Lucinda’s totally unexpected lips and tongue.

Dee sighed as we mouth-probed and I didn’t even make the decision to change the position of my left arm so I could cup her right breast; it just happened. I wasn’t shy, finding a covered nipple to squeeze, and Dee hissed loudly, the breathing through her nose more heated. She grabbed my hand—I thought she would remove it and she did, but only to guide it to her waist and up inside her blouse. Her bra was in the way and we dug her breast out together, and oh fucking God did she feel sublime, all soft and pliable and just so much there. I rolled her nipple and she hissed again, then moaned, then combined the two sounds.

“Oh Michael, Michael!” she said, unlocking our mouths, licking my earlobe. “I want you, I do!”

I rolled her nipple again and she gushed air from her mouth this time. This was a woman with very responsive nipples.

“But I’ve vowed to myself, never a man in my house on a first date!” she vented, pushing away a little. “I just don’t do that.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else,” I said, no hesitation.

She laughed, an exasperated sound. “What, a hotel?”

“Sure. At the beach.”

“The beach! That’s…”

I leaned in for more nipple rolling; there was no mistaking how much that was turning her on. “We’ve got gas, and it’s only ten-thirty. We’d arrive a little after midnight, and tomorrow’s Sunday. Do you have anything going on that you can’t get out of?”

Dee gushed air and removed my hand, then slid back to her side of the car. “I work, but not until the evening. But this is insane!”

“The sound of the ocean, fresh salty air… Where’s the insanity in that?”

“Everywhere! I…” She shook her head, hair falling into her eyes. She was lubricating, or had been a few seconds ago; I could smell it.

I slid towards her and she met me, and I started kissing her neck. “Come be a mermaid for a night,” I whispered. “I’ll even buy you a wide straw hat in the morning, to keep your skin flawless.”

She giggled, tightly grasping one of my hands. “What a charmer! Do you have a place in mind? It’s not high season yet, so we could probably have our pick of places.”

This sounded like serious progress. “You use your phone and choose the hotel. I’ll pay for it, but I’ll be busy driving.” Making it sound like a done deal.

“This is crazy! No is supposed to be no, but… This is crazy!”

“I’m a therapist. We could try crazy and we’d be safe.”

“Promise me you’re not an axe murderer.”

“Swear to God and Boy Scout’s honor. You can even check the trunk of the car if you want. There may be a shovel in there; I can’t . But no axe.”

“This is crazy! I’m crazy!”

But she wasn’t saying no, and I could see gears turning. I got back in place to drive and turned the car on, ready for us to go. “Grab anything you need for an overnight,” I said, my voice full of conviction like all of this was a foregone conclusion.

“Just a swimsuit and a toothbrush!” she responded, opening her door and dashing from the car to her front door.

I worried for the five minutes she was gone that she might change her mind in there. I rationalized that it wouldn’t even be terribly painful if Dee got hold of herself and never came back out, since I had Mira stewing for me. I turned on my phone for a few seconds; no calls or texts from my hypnotized future lover, but the night was still young.

Dee’s door opened, the hourglass of her figure momentarily backlit. As promised she had a shoulder bag cutting a diagonal between her breasts, and she made sure I got a good look at that by striking a model’s pose in my car’s headlights. It was hardly the gesture of someone having second thoughts about the night’s trajectory.

Once she was inside the car I thought of making a joke about her headlights in my headlights, but kept my mouth shut, other than to kiss her before putting the car in gear.

Somewhere around the midway point of the drive, Dee said, “I feel a little like Thelma, or maybe Louise, on this crazy adventure. Only completely hetero.”

She was an actress, and maybe that was the lens through which she viewed her world of experiences, as being like this or that movie. Dee’s actress mother had helped ignite an interest in films from earlier years, and Dee was big on Howard Hawkes and Stanley Kubrick. I knew enough that I felt comfortable engaging in a conversation about favorite movies, and she was surprised that I knew who Jean Cocteau was, and that I knew the names of the lead actors in his black-and-white version of Beauty and the Beast.

When the subject of romantic movies came up, she spoke about watching old films with her actress her mother. She went on for a bit about an old Italian one titled Swept Away, where a man and woman from opposite social strata forge an intense sexual relationship when stranded on a deserted island. She itted to having a crush on the lead actor, Giancarlo Gianini, when she was younger.

Hearing that she’d been stirred by an intense sexual relationship, even if fictional, felt like a good sign to the beast in my pants. And when the conversation about old films played out, I found it delightful when Dee put on some music, which started with Neil Young—no relation, she said—then became “Funkytown”. We both sang to that, Dee dancing in her seat with her upper body.

She had a wonderful singing voice, no hypnotism needed, and that brought the reality of this situation home to me—no hypnotism had been needed to be with this captivating woman, on my way to quite probably bedding her. Even so, it was almost like we had an additional enger crouching in the backseat of the car, which was my wish that I could somehow get her into the immersion state. My head slowly shook as I drove—she probably thought I was keeping time with the music, but in reality I was chastising myself for wanting to hypnotize a woman that I was charming without any underhanded tricks.

We were like any ordinary romantic couple when we checked in at the Seahorse Inn, and once in our oceanfront room I learned that Dee had put more than a swimsuit and toothbrush into her bag. She’d packed a scarlet bustier that she slipped into in the bathroom, and when she stepped out wearing it, the way she filled out the garment got my pulse dropping down like my heart had relocated to being inside a rapidly expanding cock.

I knew right then that Grace had been so totally correct—I really did need there to be a healthy set of tits on a woman. Dee’s boobs were extremely vivacious, projecting forward under the red material as though ed by a bra that simply wasn’t there. At the same time they overflowed the top of the filmy red garment with their milky smoothness.

She brazenly flirted with her tits, squeezing them together and making sure I saw her pinching her nipples through the thin material. I was in bare feet but still clothed, and she reached out, pulling me out onto our private balcony.

Surf pounded just over the dunes. The air was moist and chilly, but I was heated by the serpent in my pants, which wanted to breathe dragon fire when I felt her up, standing behind so my hard-on pressed against her ass. The scent of an excited woman mixed with the salty air, the twin masses of Dee’s tits delighting my hands. I could sense her heartbeat right through all of that pliable flesh; it was almost like each breast had its own life and destiny.

This was natural attraction, and the ordinary needs of two human bodies feeling lust. Which meant that any minute now, Dee was going to confront the particulars of my cock without any hypnotism to game her response.

She moaned as I kept tweaking her nipples, the surf and her heart both pounding away, and it was when I had a finger up her sopping pussy that she gasped the question of whether I had a condom. I didn’t, and she onished herself for not asking me to stop for them at the beginning of the drive. Then, with an accepting grin, she told me not to worry—there were other ways to have fun.

We began that fun right there on the balcony. She positioned me so my back was to the railing and she got on her knees, opening the fly of my pants for what I assumed was going to be a seaside blow-job. My shirttails provided a few moments of suspense, and then it was the big reveal.

Her eyebrows shot up as she grabbed hold, pulling me out. “Whoa, you’re… Holy crap!”

The lighting wasn’t great for studying her expression, but from what I could make out, her brows and gaping mouth were communicating that she thought I should have warned her. She had her hands wrapped around me, fingers pressing at the base like they wanted to understand the mechanics of all that extended hardness.

“Michael… Fuck!”

She swallowed hard and flattened her hands to pancake my meat between them. I wasn’t at all certain what this was about—was it a thing she did, or was she ridiculously comparing the length of her hands to my length? Probably that, because one hand let go and she placed the elbow of that arm against my groin, tilting her head and gaping at the comparison of my erection to the length of her forearm.

“I had no idea,” she whispered, and kept touching me experimentally. A sound came out of her nose and I didn’t know if it expressed lust, or fascination, or doubt, or refusal. Then, “You spoke of an incompatibility between you and your ex. It’s this, isn’t it?”

I could have said that she’d just earned her own gold star for figuring that out. Another way to approach the situation came to mind—how had she phrased things earlier in the night, about having big tits? I said, “Let’s get this out of the way right now. Is it too big for you? Some women really like that, but some don’t.”

She didn’t laugh, and I waited with some trepidation. Every woman was going to have some kind of opinion, and all I could do was wait for hers.

I let out a breath as Dee gently kissed the tip, with her head tilting sideways so her tongue could travel the entire length of the underside. She made a soft humming sound like she was thinking. Then, as though both her attitude and her spine had grown stronger with resolve, she said, “Change of plans!”

Whatever the exact change was, it began with both hands holding firmly to my meat, pressing it hard into her left breast. She kept that going, my stiff anatomy uniting with her softness, and it was plain from her expression, eyes half closed, that we would keep going.

She pulled me back inside the room to the bed. There, with faint ocean rhythms acting as background music, she removed my shirt and pants and it became obvious that she wished to give me my second tit-job of the week.

And my God, those naked tits. Dee’s breast-flesh was exactly as d, creamy smooth and completely unblemished, not one freckle or mole and no hint of tan lines from summers past. Her areolae were more pink than tan and really quite pale, like angelic halos for very pert nipples. They exhibited plenty of earthiness in their excited state, though, the flesh all around her nipples rising into bumpy constellations of glands of Montgomery.

We kissed more, and then her tongue made a journey down to my sternum. She teased both of my nipples with her tongue-tip, then went straight to the head of my cock, deliberately drooling to bathe me in saliva.

She let her lips collide with my crown, then opened extra-wide to take in a couple of inches. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t really move her head or tongue, like she just needed to feel the mass in her mouth and decide what she wanted to do with it.

She didn’t take me in any deeper. Instead, she released me with a further outpouring of saliva and brought her tits into play, by lifting them from underneath and letting them whomp down to either side of my erection. Using her hands to pillow them, her tits slid all over me, pressing and twisting and slow-stroking. Positioning her mouth right above, she drooled another long stream until I was thoroughly slick with it. With a dip of her chin she brought her mouth down to lick at the crown of my cock while elbow-compressing her tits all around.

This was big-tit heaven, a slow boil of fleshy that got my balls roiling. I moaned, and that’s when she transitioned into high energy tit-wobble action, the whap-whap of her breasts drowning out the distant sounds of surf. By the end it was nothing but fast-vibrating tit-smacks opening the hatches of my balls, the pressure too great to be contained. I came hard, gasping, covering her throat and the tops of her breasts with lines and curls of cum.

Afterward, Dee was not shy about licking me clean, then lifting the cum that had pooled at the base of her throat onto two fingers, and bringing that to her mouth to suck down. She complimented me by saying, “Your cock is like a sabertooth to other tigers I’ve known. It makes me feel like my breasts aren’t so huge after all.”

It was all very nice to hear, even though her compliments couldn’t really compete with having a hypnotism-laden woman come grandly and uncontrollably just from swallowing my cum.

She was smiling, and brought her tits to my face again. I told her they were fantastic, just magnificent breasts.

“I know,” she replied. “And I’m pretty sure what they just did to you… You’ve been thinking about that for hours, haven’t you?”

“So true,” I replied, and then I went silent, kissing her neck. She liked that, and I continued with the palm of my right hand gliding over a nipple, bringing it to fuller stiffness. When I brought my tongue into play on both nipples, Dee made “Ssssss!” sounds and squeezed her tits to make tall mountains of them. This woman just loved nipple play and I sucked the flesh all around both of them, only occasionally darting my tongue sideways for direct hits, causing her to moan with her legs writhing.

She changed the positioning of her arms to bring her hands between her legs, probably because she was used to guys not being able to leave her tits alone. She was going to finger herself into eruption, but I stayed her hand and whispered, “No, that’s where I want to be.”

Her slit was so wet already, primed for my fingers and tongue to take her on a clitoral joyride. I teased her, just a little, becoming familiar with every bit of her private anatomy, then zeroing in and going hard and fast at her clit. She pinched her nipples the entire time, her hips bucking and abdominal muscles clenching just before soft cries strengthened into an escalating, “Yes, yes, Yes!”

Ah, the joys of good old-fashioned sex, no miracles other than those that nature bestows upon all of mankind. We spooned together after that, and Dee wanted my hands warming her breasts. I hadn’t been in bed with a woman, just relaxing after sex, since Ursula in Zurich, and even then we had never spent an entire night together.

“Are you okay with me sleeping a little bit?” Dee asked in a drowsy voice.

I said I was, and almost immediately fell into a deep sleep of my own, having a dream that I ed when awakening at three in the morning, needing to pee. The dream was this: I’m outside in the dark somewhere, and I become blinded by the headlights of some kind of European car. Suddenly those lights go out and my eyes adjust, and I’m aware that I’m bathed in moonlight. I have the sense of the moon’s light touching my skin and that’s when I realize I’m naked, with an erection of almost otherworldly insistence. I feel an unseen presence somewhere, and when I turn to look I see Mira. She radiates sexuality; I particularly take in the form of her legs and the wetness of her pussy, and my cock responds like it can grow an erection that is more than an erection. It’s similar to one of those Russian dolls, the feeling that inside my erection is another erection, and inside of that is yet another one, perhaps to infinity. I feel all of that condensed energy and I just have to fuck Mira.

That’s when I woke up, my cock hard as stone. Dee was sound asleep and I slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, peeing one of those carefully aimed hard-on pees.

With Mira in my mind I thought to check messages on my phone. When I retrieved it from my pants and returned to the privacy of the bathroom, I saw that she had indeed called three times, and texted twice.

I sat on the closed toilet seat and read her first message, written less than an hour after I’d left the party. Don’t give up on me—I promise u will have me soon. The second message, sent just after midnight, read: I just came so hard, thinking of u.

This was very, very good. The bars of naughty Mira’s cage were bending fast and she would soon be free to rampage all over my dick. My heart beat faster with anticipation when I put the phone right to my ear with the volume turned low, to play the first voicemail message from her.

Mira’s voice sounded full of heat as she said, “Don’t give up on me Michael, not now when I’m finally ready. Everything changed when I saw you tonight… Or maybe it was before, does it matter? What’s crucial is that I have to have you. No games, no more teasing, understand? Give me a fucking key to your house and teach me to do everything you love in bed. I’ll do anything you want, I promise. I’ll be anything you want in bed, I promise!”

I was crazy hard, just like I’d been in that dream. And then I played her second voice message.

I keep replaying how I felt you with my hand in that bathroom and… It’s like my soul is starving and I’m fucking leaking with it, I want you so bad!

I turned my phone off and sighed through my nose, staring at the checkered floor tiles. They reminded me of a game board, and I couldn’t really see how Dee could be a piece for me to move around. She was a treasure, but when I pictured trying to integrate her into my life, having her over for dinner or taking her to a restaurant or a movie… Any scenario I could envision started to bend towards the eerie and bizarre, like attempting to fit old-fashioned dating into a Twilight Zone world. It was my own fault; I had gone pretty far in performing mad scientist experiments in the past few weeks, and my most potent creation was just now being released from the lab.

I happened to notice the small heap of clothing next to the sink, that Dee had left when she’d changed into her scarlet lingerie. It included her bra, and I ed how Grace wanted me to learn the specifics. I picked it up and found the label—the tag read 34-G. I counted up how many D’s that would be, and if measuring worked logically, two D’s becoming an E, three D’s equaling an F… It seemed that Grace had underestimated Dee’s bounty by one cup-size with her nickname.

It had only been a couple of hours since I’d come all over those G’s, and who could say what mixture of influences had me so freaking hard again—the dream, or the sound of Mira’s immersion-infused voice, or the information on Dee Young’s bra?

It was probably all three that caused my straining cock-head to exit the bathroom first, pointing straight ahead. It wasn’t quite pitch black in the room, and I could see that Dee was sitting up in bed, also awake.

“Look at the great big beast who needs more petting,” she said, beckoning me by hefting her breasts in her hands, making them point right at me. It was like the most overgrown parts of our anatomy yearned to be reunited.

When I was beside the bed she let go of a boob to take my hand, pulling me onto the bed and directing me to lie on my back. I did as she wished and she played me with her hands, pushing at my erection in different directions and releasing, watching with fascination as my meat returned to straight.

“I grew up in southern Ohio,” she said. “Sometimes we’d be stopped at a railroad crossing, with a freight train going on and on, and you’d think the last car has to be coming really soon. But the cars would just keep coming and it started to feel ridiculous, like ‘C’mon already, how long can a train be?’”

With her hands slowly climbing my shaft, I thought I might already know the moral to this story.

“Out there on the patio, pulling you out…”

Dee started kissing the tip-top of my locomotive tenderly, then traced a circle at the edges of my glans, and all I could say was, “Oh Dee.”

She positioned herself at a right-angle to me, on all fours with her tits dangling. Her butt was raised and she moved her body so her fully extended breasts rubbed at my cock every which way, plowing into it and pushing it over, seemingly fascinated by the way it always ended up reaching for the ceiling again. Then, shifting so the weight of her breasts pressed upon my abdomen, I was given a saliva bath with her lips working exclusively at my sensitive crown.

She rushed nothing, patiently swirling, eventually adding in a light pulling that got me to grunting. I began to repeat her name, getting close. I groaned more loudly when her tongue did something special to the underside of my cock-head, and that spurred her into swallowing my crown and pulling. I felt a fresh load leaving the chamber and I almost said, “Oh Mira!” when I came.

Dee moaned, swallowing every drop I poured into her, and then she nestled on top of me, sighing contentedly. When she pressed her cheek against mine I could smell the semen on her breath, and I loved the feel of all that breast-flesh spreading upon my front.

“I’ll never be able to get all of you inside my mouth,” she sighed.

“You just proved you don’t need to.”

“What a fucking first date,” she murmured, wiggling tighter against me. We just breathed together like that, and then I felt her body shaking.

“Are you laughing?” I asked.

“Yes. Because Grace doesn’t have a clue!”

“, here?”

“No, about you having a pornstar thing! Think about it—if Grace knew, you think she’d be able to keep herself from dropping hints?”

That was probably right. But then I thought of Lucinda getting indications from what Mira had done to me in her bathroom earlier that night. Maybe she’d be the one dropping hints to her girlfriend.

“Your former girlfriend,” Dee said, and I was momentarily confused. “She had big boobs too, didn’t she?”

Either Grace had made a point of mentioning that about Joyce, or Dee just knew. “Not like yours, but yes.”

I placed a hand firmly upon one of Dee’s larger breasts and pressed, communicating that I was thrilled about her huge boobs. I had the thought of going down on her again, but she yawned and rested a hand at my shoulder, urging me to turn with her onto our sides. She said something in a sleepy voice that I couldn’t make out, and I moved my other hand onto her ass. Then her breathing told me she’d fallen back to sleep, and I just held her, accepting the time-out.

I didn’t get any more sleep that night. Instead, I tried to take stock of where I was in my life. I had the back of Dee Young’s very fine body pressed against me, while Mira Cassidy’s emotion-filled voice kept echoing in my brain. And was there anything serious that might come out of Lucinda’s little mini ambush? Sexual adventures or misadventures were swirling in the air and it seemed obvious that I was going to have to make some decisions very soon about the overall shape of my love life, and how complicated I was willing to let it become.

Being honest with myself, I’d hoped from the very beginning that traveling abroad and learning the hypnotic technique would somehow give me access to Mira’s pussy. That workshop had been my equivalent of a hail-Mary in football, a what-the-fuck heave with nothing to lose. My early experiments were showing me that the hail-Mary was a trick play that could succeed over and over again, and where did that leave someone like Dee? Did she even belong on this playing field?

I just loved her tits, and the rest of her was pretty amazing, too. She was intelligent and downright gorgeous, and she was willing to take my big thing on while giving great tit-jobs and swallowing like a champion after a blow-job—what was there not to like?

I turned over, staring at what I could see of the ceiling. I kept thinking how tonight’s situation would be even more sublime if I could drop a host of immersion suggestions into Dee’s psyche, making her mind just as full as her tits.

My original mission using the sexual immersion technique was essentially accomplished, but my imagination kept trying to concoct some way of getting Dee into the immersion state. I couldn’t come up with any plausible scenario for broaching the subject—if I dangled it or tried to twist her arm, she might intuit that something was off, my motivations problematic.

That was because my motivations were problematic. Going back to that earlier metaphor, Dee simply didn’t belong on the hypnotism-filled playing field I had created, invisible to her but very much there. It made me think of a football game on t.v. one time, where all the action ground to a halt because a squirrel had somehow gotten onto the field. To continue the game would have meant the squirrel’s obliteration; that, or unnaturally contorted moves by the players.

Having a normal relationship with this woman was an impossibility. Our sex-filled beach adventure was great, but there was nowhere for decent and honest attraction to go. It would be like deciding to lay out a blanket for a picnic lunch on the lip of an active volcano—someone, maybe me, would come out of it deeply burned.

I decided that Dee and I could have a few days at most, and that would have to be it. Maybe we could go out to one movie, or dinner. I could accept an invitation to her place if she gave it, but I was going to give Mira a key to my house, and after that it would be inviting disaster to ever have another lover in my home.

I played the stirring Mira voicemails again that night, out on the balcony with the sky just beginning to lighten. Back inside, I saw that Dee had kicked free of the sheets, although she was still asleep. I lightly sat on the side of the bed, watching her breathe, staring at how her breasts rose and fell. Flat on her back as she was, she looked so much like a woman in the immersion state.

Was that what got me completely hard again? Knowing we had no real future emboldened me. I lightly placed a hand on her thigh, and she sighed before saying, “Mmmn, come back here and warm me.”

“Just what I had in mind,” I said, taking hold of her ankles to spread her legs. She made a sleepy questioning sound as my thumbs massaged her inner thighs, lightly brushing against more intimate territory. She moaned softly, wetness apparent, and it didn’t take too long to have her bucking and fully awake from the targeted action of my tongue.

Over a cafe breakfast two hours later, she told me that she had never been awakened like that before, and that it might have been the most sensuous moment of her entire life.

“How does a guy with a thing like yours end up being great with his tongue?” she asked, and it seemed like a sincere question.

I decided to tell her about Amy, a two-month girlfriend in college, who had mentored me in the art of eating pussy.

“She said it would be a sin if I never learned to use my mouth, so she taught me. I wanted to learn especially after she compared me to a basketball center who never bothered to develop a jump-shot.”

“And now look at you, able to score from anywhere.”

The way she looked at me, rosy cheeked with her entire face aglow in the early morning light, I wondered if I’d made a mistake by eating her pussy this morning. The woman would be in trouble if she started to fall for me in anything approaching a deep way, because whether it was messy or somehow clean and poised, this would all have to be broken off, and soon.

Our eyes and our phones told us that it was going to be a picture-perfect spring day there at the seaside, but I never forgot that Hurricane Mira was somewhere over the horizon, turned by sexual immersion hypnosis into a Category 5 storm. And damn if I would let a lesser storm, even one this lovely with such fantastic tits, fuck that up.