The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I got home early enough to take a quick shower before Mira showed up. It was a hot day and I didn’t even bother to dress after toweling off.

I was in my bedroom when I heard the door open downstairs, my dick stiffening in Pavlovian style just from the anticipation of seeing that woman’s body again.

She knew I was there because my car was parked outside, and I expected her to immediately run up the stairs once she’d confirmed I wasn’t on the first floor. I had to wait longer than expected, and when she strode into my bedroom I knew why—she had taken the time to remove all of her clothes, too.

To every system and organ in me that was connected to sexual desire, it ceased to matter that I’d shot umpteen loads into or upon Gina Delucca in the past twenty-four hours. Mira’s physical splendor did that to me all by itself, but then there was the wild animal look in her eyes, the force of her unchained naughty side beaming through.

Her eyes laser-focused on my erection right before we rushed each other. After a fierce groping hug we both dropped to our knees for our own reasons—for me it was the desire to bury my face between her upper thighs as my hands felt the musculature of her legs; for her, she’d been intending to get my cock in her mouth as soon as possible.

We adjusted to have what we both wanted, a 69-like ing that allowed my tongue to swipe up the taste of Mira’s lust, while she made sounds of joy with her hands wrapped around my erection, bringing it to her mouth.

We became a groping grunting entwined mass on the bedroom floor, my hands running all along her legs, marveling at the incongruity of their iron-hard silkiness, while the outer third of my cock was treated to a tongue-swirling hot massage.

I said Mira’s name several times as I focused more on her glistening slit. Then, as if the simultaneous shift in our bodies’ direction was well rehearsed, we completely changed our configuration so my cock could slide into her from the rear.

Mira expelled a long loud moan as I shoved in farther, culminating in one complete sentence: “It’s been torture!”

The torture of waiting was over now, for both of us. With my senses on overload, as if my cock gained a much finer awareness of its surroundings when immersed inside of her, I experienced again how being inside Mira’s pussy was just so different than with any other woman. More tingly, more electric, more fucking right.

I grabbed her thighs and found the leverage to bury every aching millimeter as deep as it could go, and then we were two animals doing what animals do, driven by frenetic needs that could not be questioned nor interrupted until there came the cries and convulsions of searing and nearly frothing sweet release.

My body buzzed and my ears rang, and it felt to me like our bodies must be like black pavement baking in the summer sun, distorting the air all around us. I felt totally emptied and just kept breathing as my heart rate gradually eased from a gallop to a trot. It was a dreamy state where I found myself wishing for the impossible, which was to live the rest of my life with my dick buried inside this woman’s hot wet tunnel.

I don’t know how long it took, but eventually I heard my voice saying, “You are my erotic utmost,” into Mira’s shoulder. I was surprised by the declaration, but also not. And somehow I was confidant that Mira would understand the meaning of the statement, language borrowed from Dee.

“Tell me about it,” she eventually replied. “I think about having sex with you ninety percent of every day, and sometimes I dream it at night. I’m not kidding, I would fuck you five times every day if only…”

If only. But reality here—I didn’t even want that. I was pretty much committed now to rampaging through the world like a shadowy figure from some old B-movie, unleashing sexual immersion therapy onto beautiful women every time I could. I was fine with having Mira as my utmost partner whenever that could happen, but I also wanted hordes of extra fucks.

“I’m completely in love with your cock,” Mira said, fondling it in its shrunken, slippery state. “Being away from it this long… If I didn’t get myself off, I think I might literally go crazy.”

The same might be true for me in a similar position. Only with all the attention my dick was receiving from multiple lovers, I’d had no need to even think about going at myself for a very long time.

Both of Mira’s hands were playing with my anatomy when she spoke next. “I just don’t even feel complete without this,” she said, giving “this” a good squeeze.

Exactly as she’d been programmed to feel.

“When you weren’t here last night… It was awful, being on your bed, wanting you so badly.”

I expected some drama, where Mira would try to guilt me or get me in line about fucking any women but her. She did go there, but in a way that surprised me.

“I can’t tell you not to have other lovers,” she began. “I’ll be able to come here more often in a few weeks, I promise. We’ll have our final dance performance of the season, and after that there will be a vacation from all dance responsibilities. But even that, a couple of months where we have more chances, will never be enough for either of us. If you need to… Just promise you won’t wall me off, no matter what happens. If I couldn’t… I can’t even contemplate that. I’m not even sure I could survive it.”

“I’m not going to marry someone and run off. I think I can promise that.”

“But you could fall in love. It happens to people, and I’m sure you were with a woman last night. Don’t even try to deny it.”

A shoulder shrug in response.

“If you ever fall in love with someone, I’ll fight for this,” she said, squeezing my penis before two of her fingers gently but insistently worked at my frenulum.

Her touch was meant to have an effect, and it did. And with lotion making her thighs and calves and feet slick and shining, she brought me off again with her incomparable legs.

I was back at the office at 5:30, and Gina left almost immediately afterwards, telling me she wanted to shop for a couple of new outfits for work. Even though I’d put it into her to show less cleavage and leg on days when I had clients, I lectured her on toning down her curves, just for appearance’s sake.

I did some actual paperwork at my desk for a short while, but gave up when it hit me that I was worried. Rosita had not called or texted, which just wasn’t right. She was supposed to get back to me about fucking again, and introducing me to her stacked Asian friend. I should have a picture of Ruoya on my phone by now.

Was Rosita okay? Getting back to me should be an imperative in her psyche, not a ho-hum choice.

I found myself glancing at my phone again and again, and also the clock on the wall. Was Terri Thorngood already out in the parking lot, watching the building from her car? I could go to the outer office and peek to check, but why? I trusted my handiwork. It was getting dark outside and the woman would be there, poised to pounce whenever I decided to call it a night.

I was semi-hard with anticipation when I locked the doors and stepped out into a warm cloudless night. The moon was waxing well past half-full, similar to my dick.

Even though I’d known some kind of signal was coming, I jumped at the sharp wolf-whistle that came from the far corner of the parking lot. Terri’s mouth had talents I hadn’t been aware of.

Her gorgeous face appeared through the lowered window of a red Toyota RAV-4, and I headed in that direction. Her choice of vehicle was probably all about delivering flower orders, but in my mind its purpose had changed enough that it could now be called The Blowmobile.

“Terri, what are you… Something wrong?” I asked when I was close, playing my part.

“Very wrong. Get in.”

I walked around to the enger side, and once inside her scent was so strong that it was like I’d already buried my face between her legs.

“What’s up? How long have you—“

“Unzip your pants.”

“What? I—”

“I’m not waiting for some future dinner date!” she said, sliding across the seat and doing what I hadn’t done yet, pulling my zipper down.

“Wait, wait. Right here? We could—”

“Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed, pulling my cock out. “I just knew it!”

Hot breath was on the one-eyed tip, her head lowered over my lap, one hand pulling her hair back.

I expected to be vacuumed within seconds, but Terri played a more artful game than that, planting little kisses all up and down the length of me, and then up and down again. I couldn’t see her face but I got the feeling her eyes were open, every detail of my pulsing anatomy being studied and ed, like she had data storage in her brain reserved for nothing but hard cock.

Her lips were amazingly soft, a benefit from their pillowy shaping. The touch of her tongue came next, and she was just as attentive with that, employing an enticing rhythm of swirls and flicks that got me breathing heavily. She was toying with me, taking my hardness and creating a different level of craving within the already insistent need. I was horny and in a sense her tongue was making my horns grow new horns, and then new horns on top of those.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered, when all of her attention became focused on my super-sensitive crown.

I thought I was going to blow a massive load right then and there, but her tongue deftly shifted and it didn’t happen. I caught my breath and then her tongue was back where it had been before, and in seconds I braced for the explosion.

It didn’t happen once more, her sperm-roiling tongue action turned to affectionate little kisses once more. The woman was expertly edging me!

Her kisses included some tongue action again, and I groaned with the sense that my impending load was getting too big and dense inside. It was like she was creating a whole auditorium full of eager spunks, squeezing all the individual sperms too close together, then pulling a fire alarm and getting them all jammed-up and desperate in front of a barricaded doorway. Meanwhile the flames were spreading, the temperature rising to a nearly unbearable level.

“Terri, oh fuck—”

“Say pretty please,” she spoke between kisses.

Some very wet lip action raised the temperature even higher. It felt like true panic might break out in the sperm community, little screams emerging from my dick.

“Terri, yes! Please!”

“I said pretty please.”

“Pretty… Oh guck!”

“Guck?”

It was too much. “Fuck, please! Pretty please!”

No warning, just the light-speed sensation of the whole of my cock warping down the woman’s throat, and then her head bobbing and the warm friction-bath creating a fucking explosive event inside the auditorium of my balls.

“Ter… Ter…” Her half-formed name came unbidden from my lips, and it really was like the suction and pressure deep down inside her throat was tearing the cum right out of me. In a thigh-flapping gush-quake, I heard a sharp loud crack as my right hand struck the enger window.

Crack, cracked, my hands must have been flailing as my fucking missile-launcher was orally jacked-off by the woman’s immersion-transformed throat. My eyes were closed, heartbeat racing, my dick still down her gullet, and it felt like half of my mind was being emptied right along with the pressure inside my balls.

I made involuntary sounds, and more involuntary actions. My knuckles ached and my throat felt raw, and the smell of pussy in the air was so strong that we might have created a new species of scent molecules.

I felt so drained and tingly, like I was in a state of post-suck delirium. My cock was shaking, or being tugged, and when I opened my eyes I saw that Terri’s mouth and throat were still full of me, her entire body quaking and jerking, and that included her head.

In an instant my cock popped out of her mouth as she sat up straight, head thrown back almost violently into her seat’s headrest.

“Oh whoa whoa whoa,” she said, those amazing lips gleaming. “Oh sweet…”

I caught on to what was happening and I agreed; it really was a sweet thing to witness. She had my cum inside her body now, and her subconscious mind and all that was connected to it was feeling, or imagining it felt, a true sexual transformation.

I had no clue what that felt like, exactly. What it looked like was a beautiful woman undergoing a real-time body-fueled hallucination right in front of me, her legs tensing and straightening so that her back was pressed hard into her seat, her entire upper body lifting until her head almost touched the car’s roof. Mouth wide open, she kept gulping air without any visible out-breaths, like she was a balloon that might grow larger and larger.

The sight had my dick believing it might be able to imitate Terri’s trajectory, by reversing course and getting hard again before it had even had a chance to fully soften. That didn’t happen because I was not one of her superheroes, Erection Man or The Incredible Boner, but I did feel inspired to hurry up and get my very first taste of professional model pussy.

Not here in her car, though. With the parking lot deserted it would probably be safe, but I wanted us to have room to move. I’d had a plan that she would drive me to her home for that, but fuck it—if the parking lot was deserted then the office building was, too, so if she let out even a truckload of screams when she came, it would be okay.

I took charge, getting out of the car and helping a gasping and somewhat wobbly Terri make it to my office. She managed to tell me that she felt really weird, and I wasn’t concerned about that in the least. Her mind and body believed they were experiencing a real life version of a comic book transformation sequence, so of course she felt weird.

Once I had her safely deposited on my couch, I went out and re-parked her car right next to mine, then returned and locked the place up. I still had the lights from when I’d fucked Rosita in my work space, and used them to bring some ambience to my new love den, just bright enough that I could see every stirring detail of my newest immersion conquest’s wonderful anatomy.

Beginning with her thighs, when I undressed her. She didn’t resist when I removed her shoes and skirt and panties, nor when I knelt on the floor and spread her thighs wide. I loved the flesh of those legs—they were very smooth and toned, and so shiny up around the area of her pussy. Leaning in, I saw that her vagina was indeed photogenic, its architecture delicate and extremely symmetrical.

“Something’s happening to me!” I heard from up above. “I feel like I’m changing, or growing, or…”

Immersion hypnotism was some truly powerful shit, wasn’t it? And she hadn’t even experienced the most fun part yet.

I kind of wished I could do to her what she’d done to me, edging her right to the brink of a climax and then backing it all down, pleasure-torturing her for a little while. That wasn’t going to be possible, though—I’d put too much into her about being insanely responsive to everything I did, so it was going to be explosive fireworks from beginning to end.

With my hands grasping the tops of her thighs, I dabbed all around her most sensitive places with my tongue-tip, eliciting extra-loud moans.

I backed off to fill my mouth with saliva, and in those couple of seconds she said in a breathy voice, “Something’s… happening… to me!”

It sure was, and she was going to have to endure it happening to her for several hours tonight, especially when I decided to drive my dick deep inside. Which was going to happen sooner than expected, because the woman’s helpless and literally super-excited state had fully resurrected my cock.

My own needs were the fuel that set a more forceful approach in motion. With more firm and insistent tongue action, I went at Terri’s clit while slipping two fingers inside her slit, which changed her from a vocal but relatively stable target into a bucking bronco.

I decided that I would switch things around and get my dick in there, but the woman’s explosions happened before I could move, a jet of hot liquid painting my cheek. She had squirted even more fiercely than Gina, and as soon as that thought arrived she was squirting more, with her hips jerking half a foot into the air. My right arm and the fingers inside her went along for part of the ride before slipping out. When Terri’s body landed in a skewed position only nominally still on the couch, I wasted no time in climbing aboard, hard meat plowing inside unbelievably slick molten walls.

She wrapped her limbs around and wordlessly urged me to go at her hard. I did and she let out a series of enthusiastic screams, that kept rising in pitch until her voice broke, or she reached some frequency that only dogs could hear.

She came again, a series of convulsive contractions and hot releases that couldn’t be far from turning my meat into a lobster broil. I suddenly became aware that my eyes were closed as I endured the deliciousness of her heat, and when I opened them and saw her beautiful model features all distorted like she had somehow found herself strapped to the nosecone of a rocket going at supersonic speed, I erupted again, one furnace blasting into another, a Michael load emptying into what had become, from Terri’s firm belief and reality-altered perceptions, the world’s first super-pussy.

It might have been what I did with Terri that fully convinced me that I was in possession of an actual superpower. It was the degree to which I could shape her view of the world and her place in it, and the fact that her entire sexual system—and here I mean every bit of the human ecosystem of sexual desires and bodily responses, leading to outsized sexual capacities in physiological and psychological ways—was mine to work with.

She believed what she had always wanted to believe, that she was special and in possession of extraordinary—perhaps unique—powers. Maybe that was even true to some degree—how many women out there could deep-throat a cock like mine, or climax in that volcanic fashion? I knew that even my incredibly potent control of immersion hypnosis could not cause a human body to do more than the human body was capable of doing; to think anything else would be lunacy. But I was really beginning to wonder—what were the limits of the sexual experiences I could give, if I could game the mind and emotions into believing in more than was humanly possible?

Terri sucked me off again that night, and in the recovering lull she confessed her superpower fetish to me. I asked questions as though learning about it for the first time, delighting at her language when she described her breakthrough into what she called her “yellow-sun climaxes”.

Then she made me laugh, when she revealed that she’d given herself a secret superhero name in the past week. It was Suck-a-Bus, phonetically related to succubus, but the way she presented it, the point was that she felt like her mouth and throat were so talented that she could, ridiculously, suck an entire bus. I hated the name and told her so, and that got us pretend-wrestling, then tickling and laughing. A look came into her eye that told me I should let her overpower me, and she used her super-beautiful and super-talented mouth to get me hard again, and then we outright fucked.

Every single time, she came spectacularly. Her fetish was unique to her, but I was confidant that I could find and accentuate any special fantasy that lived deep inside of any lover. I thought that over time and with any luck at all, I should be able to drain my balls in or on some gorgeous woman every day of the week, and whenever that didn’t work out or didn’t feel like enough, there was always my stacked and fit receptionist to bang.

If it sounds like I was a man in the early stages of building a secret sexual empire out of hypnotized lovers, that’s exactly where my two heads were at. The thought came to me, right there in my office after Terri drove away, that maybe I should have a superhero name, too. Or, would it be more accurate to think of myself as a supervillain?

The Sculptor—I didn’t even have to try and the moniker was there. It had been staring me in the face in that dream from weeks ago, with the unseen shadowy presence in a basement. One transgression at a time, I had become a sculptor of thoughts, and attitudes and desires and fetishes. And sexual abilities, and even female bodies now. I had become a sculptor who took the clay of feminine psychology and sexuality, molding it to be even more to my liking.

The only wild card in all of this was Mira. Her body had come pre-molded—there was not one inch of that woman’s physicality that I would want changed. In some important ways I had stopped short of fully shaping her psyche to my needs, but it was all blue skies and sunshine when she was completely addicted to my cock. It was even turning out that her being married was a blessing of sorts, because it opened up room for me to fuck other women.

Like Terri. It was my early appointment with a contractor, to see about remodeling the inner office bathroom, that gave me the impetus to send her on her way at four in the morning. I drove home to shower and change clothes, and spent more than an hour getting my office back into professional, non-brothel shape. The sex smells were slightly less intense than I’d feared when I opened the door, but they were definitely there. I sprayed air freshener, and went at the couch with a foamy scent-canceling cleanser, then broke open a package of charcoal bags I’d ordered, placing them all over and around the couch. After vacuuming the floor, the room seemed fine to me. There was a distinct smell, but it was of cleaning supplies, not semen and super-cunt.

The contractor arrived right on time, and only needed fifteen minutes to look the bathroom over and take measurements. Gina arrived shortly after he left, looking very sharp and athletic in a business ensemble that, within professional reason, showed off her legs. And then my first client of the day, and the next, with my interactions on something like autopilot. I hadn’t slept a wink during the night, and there was a haziness that kept me from being fully engaged.

Or maybe it was time to it that standard therapy, even when using immersion hypnotism to strategic effect, just didn’t satisfy me the way it once did. Just for the hell of it, I steered one fairly attractive female client into wanting to watch porn with her husband, rather than condemning him for it. I should have stopped there, but with Terri’s oral skills so fresh in my mind, I learned that this client was very comfortable with giving her husband blow-jobs, and I worked at giving her the beginnings of an outright blow-job fetish. I put into her that she would become fascinated with blow-job videos, learning different variations that she could emulate on her husband’s penis. Everyone needs a hobby, and this could be hers.

She left my office ten minutes beyond our scheduled hour, throwing out a comment that she intended to have a “frisky” weekend. A few minutes later, Gina knocked on the office door to let me know she was leaving for the day.

“Thank God it’s Friday?” I asked. “How do you feel like it’s going so far, working here?”

“I love it. Really, I think this is the perfect position for me. I’m so happy to be here.”

She wasn’t really showing any cleavage today, so it was the muscularity of her legs that I kept staring at. There was a filminess behind my eyes—I really needed to get a good night’s sleep tonight. It didn’t have to be in my own bed, though, did it?

“I feel really exhausted,” I itted. “Like I need hours and hours of sleep.”

She shifted her weight to the other leg, and an arm bent so she could touch the space between her collarbones with a finger. “You do look a little tired.”

I could say trigger words and have her on top of my desk in twenty seconds, offering her ass to me. For whatever reason I decided I’d let it play out a little more organically than that.

Rising from my chair and walking towards her, I asked, “Do you have weekend plans?”

She licked her lips, and spoke to the expanding bulge in my crotch. “I, um… My nephew turns two tomorrow. It’s a long drive, but I’m going to his birthday party tomorrow afternoon.”

“But no plans tonight?”

I could make out that her nipples had stiffened, and her weight was shifting like she had to pee. “That, you know, depends. You’re… I think you need—”

“You said that being my receptionist is the perfect position for you. What other positions would you want to be in tonight?”

I just loved to watch a beautiful woman’s expressions shift around when her jets were switch on. “Any position you want! Every position!”

“I want to take you from behind…”

Her hands went to a clasp on her skirt.

“Only…” I drew out.

“Only?”

“I need sleep tonight, but… Fuck, you are one magnificently beautiful woman.”

She drew in a breath, her eyes more predatory. “Let me get this straight,” she said, advancing towards me with her skirt falling to the floor. “You’re afraid that if you spend time with me tonight, I’ll want to have sex all night long and you won’t get enough sleep?”

“That’s…” I began, before a big breast was bared and shoved into my face.

“Seems to me that if we fuck our brains out right here and now, we could feel satisfied enough to fuck just once more at my apartment, then call it an early night.”

“And then we can sleep, and sleep,” I said, as her hands took hold of both of mine, guiding them up her smooth muscular thighs, until my fingers touched sopping warmth.

“Oh fuck yes!” she hissed, as a finger went inside. Somewhere down there her hands were busy at my belt and zipper, and she added, “I don’t need to leave tomorrow until one in the afternoon. So a very long and very thick morning in bed, right?”

My receptionist was to some extent in control of my calendar now. And so that’s exactly what we did.

I was startled by the sound of thunder, with no awareness that the arrival of the season’s first real storms was a perfect metaphor for the giant changes just over the horizon, people and events that would upend almost every aspect of my life.

I turned my head and was comforted by the sight of my fitness-fuck receptionist lying on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling. She had dried cum at the side of her mouth, and when I said “Good morning” she didn’t respond—she seemed to be lost in a post-orgasmic haze.

Sitting up, I noted that there really did appear to be a faint haziness to the air in her bedroom, like so many powerful climaxes had produced a carnal fog around us. Lightning flashed outside and I told Gina that I had to pee.

Once in privacy, I checked my phone and there was a text from Mira, telling me that she would be going to “church” the following morning. That signal was clear—no matter what, I needed to be at home early Sunday morning so we could fuck ourselves silly.

By all reasonable measures I knew I should feel completely satisfied—I’d fucked Gina on Friday night and well into Saturday morning, and in roughly twenty-four hours I’d have my hands all over some of the best legs on the planet again, my dick plumbing Mira’s insanely delicious depths. I did feel an itch at the back of my brain, though, a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Instinctual foreboding? Perhaps, or it could have just been all the eletricity in the air.

The sensation of unease persisted as I got on with my Saturday, driving home and doing normal things like mowing the grass. It was when raking up some grass cuttings that a thought hit me, which might be the reason I felt that something was off.

“Still no word from Rosita,” I spoke the problem out loud.

I found our series of phone messages, and I was right—Rosita was supposed to let me know if she, and possibly her friend Ruoya, could hook up with me tonight. More than that, she was supposed to have sent me photos of Ruoya, and that had never happened.

Was my hypnotic grip on Rosita fading for some reason? “Fuck being ive about that,” I said, typing a fresh message to her. If she was managing to resist hypnotic directives, I needed to know why, and how.

I got a text response just a couple of minutes later: Can u talk? Huge news!!!

Ice in my veins, because that’s what women say when they learn they’re pregnant. I replied that I could talk right now, and my phone rang almost immediately after.

“You just won’t believe what happened!” Rosita shouted into my ear.

I moved the phone away. “Tell me.”

“Ruoya has an uncle who lives in Hong Kong. He’s super-rich, like a zillionaire, and he’s set up some kind of LLC for us, or… I don’t really understand all the details, but it’s a way of bankrolling us, funding me and Ruoya with our modeling. It’s three-hundred grand U.S., for us to use any way we want! Our website is going to be incredible—we can buy camera equipment and mountains of lingerie, rent or a classy space for the photo shoots… We’re going to make so much money! Hell, we’re rich right now, even before we start!”

“That’s incredible!” I said in an enthusiastic tone, having no idea how to feel about this. Other than deep relief that pregnancy wasn’t in the picture.

“Let me call you back in a few minutes, okay? We need to celebrate, and just hearing your voice… Let me talk to Ruoya for a few minutes and I’ll get back to you.”

She hung up without waiting for my reply, and I sat at my dining room table just holding the phone in my hand. So much for being the hypnosis version of a master of the universe—something as ordinary as extreme wealth could affect the world in ways my immersion talents couldn’t hope to compete with. Just ask my former receptionist, living the high life somewhere in Europe.

I wondered—could this uncle really be doling out that kind of money with no strings attached? People sometimes did generous things, but usually there’s some kind of agenda at play, especially with beautiful women. Ruoya, by all s, was young and gorgeous and fucking built. Should I say anything, even just giving out a few words of warning? Was it even any of my business?

It kind of was, when Rosita was one of my hypnotized lovers. She had the biggest tits of any of them and I fully expected to continue fucking her, even if only now and then. This thing about the rich uncle didn’t sit right with me, and no wonder when Rosita had issues in her past with controlling men.

I laughed. If ever there was a controlling man, it was me.

I pondered that for a few seconds without any sense of shame, and then had another thought—should I try to become super-wealthy? I could see where it might be possible—if I just landed one or two mega-wealthy clients and hypnotized them into cutting me into some deal with a massive payoff… Pretty devious, but if I put my mind to it, there had to be a hundred other ways I could get clients to shower me with money, or gifts.

I knew I would never, ever go there, and this wasn’t like the moral lines I’d feebly drawn when it came to sexual mischief. Maybe I just wasn’t interested enough in becoming grossly wealthy. Or maybe my wallet, a lesser influence residing in my pants, couldn’t drag me down morally the way my very lively dick could.

My phone buzzed and I uttered a “Thank Christ,” with Rosita’s name teed-up on my lips. Only the screen said it was Grace.

“Hello stranger. Were you ever going to call me, or…”

“I guess I was choosing the other option for awhile,” I half-joked, my mood sour. “Sorry. my schedule’s been kind of crazy lately.”

“What with?”

Tons of hypnotically-arranged fucking, duh. “I’ve been training a new receptionist.”

“What? Is Carlotta okay?”

I relayed Carlotta’s lottery news and there was much amazement that eventually subsided into the question of, “So what’s the new receptionist like?”

“Younger. And much fitter,” I added, figuring that Grace would end up meeting Gina one day.

There were a couple of seconds of silence before Grace said, “ how I already pegged you as having a thing for fit women?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t tell me she has a rack, too.”

“I, um, won’t tell you that.” I was probably going to get an earful now, about how I should have hired some underrepresented category of person.

“Ha! This is just excellent!”

Uh-oh. “Excellent how?”

“An astoundingly fit and really endowed woman is going to be in town for a few hours tomorrow.” Then, before I could ask, “I’m talking about Julia, the woman I’ve been dying for you to meet.”

I tried to picture someone and came up blank, before it all came back. “This is Julia the out-of-town art teacher, who somehow has no social media photos whatsoever? The woman you said looks like the Hulk?”

I could hear the gust of exasperation from the speaker. “She-Hulk!”

“And I’m supposed to want that?”

“You will want her one-thousand percent, I guarantee it. And here’s the thing—she’s only in town tomorrow, no second chances. She’s agreed to meet you for dinner; I wanted the both of you here at my place but she nixed that. Anyway, you are to be at our favorite Japanese place at seven tomorrow evening. I’ve already made the reservation in your name, and Julia has promised she will meet you there. And I’m telling you right now, Michael—if you aren’t there, I’ll never speak to you again. I’m serious.”

I could think of several reasons to argue before agreeing, but this woman was supposedly “astoundingly fit” and “really endowed”, so…

“You’ve gone silent again,” Grace said. “Tell me it’s not a stubborn silence.”

“No, no, I’ll be there. I guess I’m even grateful that you’re still trying.”

Her tone changed at that, becoming warmer. “You’re going to absolutely freak out at how gorgeous she is. She’s truly one in a million. Maybe one in a billion, no joke.”

“You sure did well when it came to Dee.”

“I’m trying to decide what I’ll want from you, if you and Julia hit it off. Because if you do, you are so going to want to shower me with gifts.”

There was only a little more to the conversation, and afterwards I had to laugh at myself for the situation I had allowed myself to be in. I had no one to fuck tonight except Gina because I’d let Dee and her huge tits fly away, and I’d instructed Terri to take time away from my dick. Mira had all but promised to ambush me in my bedroom tomorrow morning, but tonight…

Pounding on Gina again was nothing for my cock to sneeze at, and it swelled anew as I pictured the musculature of her back whenever I reamed her from behind. So yes, I would fuck my receptionist again, although she was out of town for at least several hours, at a toddler’s birthday party.

She had said it was a family thing—might she be planning to stay awhile, even overnight? I pounced on that worry, typing out a text that I’d bring take-out food to her place for dinner, if she would be there. And I said that I was really, really thinking hard about how we could spend our time together tonight. About five minutes later she replied that she’d leave the party after birthday cake, which would probably have her home around 7.

Still no response from Rosita, dammit. “So I’ll fuck the tits I’m with,” I said, aware of the surly tone in my voice.