I’m on a plane, sitting next to Coral, who is to my right in the aisle seat. We’re on our way to Las Vegas, where we will marry. Coral is wearing a pale green blouse made of the thinnest of cotton, with a deep-V front that nearly stretches to her navel. No bra, I notice with approval. I watch her breathe in and out — her oversized nipples look ready to push through the cotton weave, and I can see two-thirds of the flesh of her right breast, rising and falling with every breath.
She knows that I’m staring at her breasts, and leans into me. “I have the best tits you’ve ever seen, don’t I?” she asks in a whisper. “You can’t be in a room with them and not get hard.”
She has me figured out, although her words feel haunting for some reason. I respond by leaning towards her, so the tip of my erection presses against her thigh.
“Poor boy,” she says, stealthily placing her hand in my lap to give me a good cock-squeeze. “You'll just have to wait, Michael. You can’t feel me up here on the plane.”
“I could if I put you in the immersion state,” I respond, not willing to take “no” for an answer. I explain the plan to her — somehow it makes sense that others will barely notice her having a nipple- kneading orgasm if she has been hypnotized into not caring about their reaction.
“Okay,” she says, surprising me with her willingness. “As a special wedding present. Just… don’t take advantage of me when I’m not all here.”
“I promise,” I reply insincerely.
I have Coral close her eyes, and lean the seat all the way back. Guiding her through her body is so easy, as though she was always meant to succumb to the technique. I have her thoroughly hypnotized before she’s even made contact with her right arm. Nevertheless, we proceed straight to her breasts.
“Bring your consciousness into both breasts, Coral. Feel their weight. Feel how they expand with every in-breath. Can you feel them as you breathe in? Are you inside of them?
“Yesss…”
“You know how beautiful they are. It feels so good to have Michael loving them doesn’t it Coral? You love being able to come from having Michael play with your beautiful breasts.”
“I… love it…”
“But there are other ways to please Michael even more.”
“Tell me… how…”
“You will throw out all of your vests when we get home,” I direct. “You no longer have a need for anything that is meant to obscure your beautiful breasts in public.”
“Throw out… Even my bras?”
Damn, she’s willful, even when hypnotized. It’s a good question, though, and I give it serious thought. “There are bras, and there are bras,” I answer. “You need all new lingerie, Coral. Sexy lingerie. Naughty lingerie. No more sleeping in an oversized T-shirt, or buying bras merely for comfort. Your body is too beautiful, your curves too exciting. From now on you will come to bed in lingerie meant to show off how sexy you are. Your primary mission, every time you get dressed for bed, is to make Michael’s cock ache to fuck you. You love that, don’t you Coral? Making Michael excited. Making Michael hard.”
“Yesss…”
“Reach over right now and feel how hard Michael is.”
The touch of her hand on my raging cock.
“Michael’s cock is so hard for you, Coral. It makes you want to suck it, doesn’t it?”
“I… I…”
“You’re dying to suck Michael’s cock.”
“I’m… dying….”
“To suck Michael’s cock. Nothing is more exciting than swallowing Michael’s cock, and sucking the cum out of it.”
“I… I’m afraid…”
“No fear. You want to swallow Michael’s cum. It’s delicious. It excites you and satisfies you, all at the same time. You love it. You love sucking Michael off. You were crazy to ever hesitate.”
“I was… crazy.”
“Suck Michael’s cock, Coral.”
“Now?”
“Now. Later. Every day. A day without the taste of Michael’s cum is a wasted day.”
“So… wasted…”
“A lifetime spent without sucking Michael off is a wasted lifetime. You don’t want to waste your whole life, do you?”
“No! I need… I need to…”
“What do you need, Coral?”
“Michael’s cock! I need to suck Michael’s cock! Let me suck it! Please! I’ll swallow! I’ll never stop swallowing!”
“Michael? Wake up.”
“Hmmmm?” I opened my eyes, and felt my legs cramped and my dick hard. A steady rushing sound rushed in my ears. We were on a plane, flying to our wedding, just like in the dream.
“Put this over your lap,” she said, offering me a blanket. To hide my very noticeable erection, I understood. “You’re obscenely hard,” she whispered. “What were you dreaming about?”
“You,” I answered truthfully. In real life, Coral wore a thin pale green blouse, but also a matching jacket, hiding the inspiring volume of her tits. And though she loved me, she probably wasn’t dying to suck my cock every single day, and never all the way.
Coral leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “I’m flattered, but you really can’t feel me up in public, even at thirty thousand feet.” I noticed that her hand held mine, as in holding on tight. She had probably needed to grasp my hand to keep it from doing something very inappropriate to her while I dreamed.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“I suppose it’s reassuring, right after your bachelor party. As long as it really was me you were dreaming of.”
“It was. I was, um, talking to your breasts.”
She laughed. “Did they talk back?”
“Not exactly. But they wanted to be showcased more often in lingerie.”
“I sense a dose of wish fulfillment there. And you’re getting ahead of yourself. We agreed that we’d wait until tomorrow night, after the ceremony. Remember?”
“Right.” It was our version of making the wedding night special, by sleeping in separate rooms the night before.
“Now go back to sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”
It would be a long day. Check into the hotel, reunite with Grace and Lucinda, meet Coral’s parents…
I wiggled my rear in the seat, the area around my shaved crotch itching. Coral knew that I hadn’t slept all night, but she hadn’t asked many questions about the bachelor party. She was aware that Bill and the others had hired a stripper to tease me at his house, but no details beyond that. She certainly didn’t know that the letter “M” currently graced my dick. M for Mira madness. M for merciless mind manipulations. M for monumental mistake. M for misbegotten marriage mischief.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it. Replaying the dream as best I could, I felt my itchy dick pulse. I’d never dreamed of putting Coral in the immersion state before. I had imagined it a few times, sure, something close to the dream’s nature, where I worked to make her more willing to stick with a blowjob until the end. I’d never do it, though. I’d given up that part of myself, and what had that kind of behavior gotten me other than complications and the need for lies?
Incredible unattainable sex, a voice chimed inside. True enough. But I had wonderful sex now with the woman I was about to marry, and all without unclean underhanded deeds.
Undermining Coral’s mind to get even more of what I wanted? So deceitful. So unabashedly controlling. Grasping hold of her mind and bending it to my will? So wrong. So obviously out of bounds.
My dick kept pulsing.
I’m on a plane, with Coral sitting next to me in the aisle seat, already deeply suggestive in the immersion state. For some reason, I can’t seem to lift my gaze any higher than the level of her tits. I struggle to lift my eyes, or my head, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot look up at her face.
Not such a terrible thing, I decide. Coral’s face is gorgeous, but I can just speak to her tits, or her pussy, and let the hypnotic commands filter up through her body to her mind.
I’m about to give the initial suggestions, when I see a pair of legs walking up the aisle. There is no mistaking their shapely splendor, all shiny smooth in sheer pantyhose and heels. Nobody but Mira has legs like that. She’s on board, on the same flight. Is she stalking me? Intending to interrupt the wedding ceremony with wet leggy theatrics?
I try to look up to catch her eye, but it’s still impossible to lift my gaze. Mira’s legs pause in front of our aisle, and I have the feeling that she is looking down at me, or Coral. I dread what might happen next.
Something lands on the floor between Mira’s feet. I hear her moan, and again something drips down from above. A little tendril of smoke rises from the floor, and I see that the flooring of the airplane is catching fire between Mira’s legs. It must be her pussy, dripping for my cock, only the drops glow brightly, like liquid fire. Mira moans, and the dripping comes faster, and I’m horrified to feel a small gust of air whistling through a tiny hole in the floor, leading to the plane’s belly.
She moves on, but I hear her moaning more loudly behind us. I don’t know how it’s possible, but Mira’s steady flowing lust has turned into literal fire. As far as I know, she’s creating a larger hole on the floor behind us, weakening the plane’s structural integrity. Nobody else seems aware that a hole has already been burned in the flooring, but I know without a doubt that if I don’t follow Mira up the aisle to put out the heat raging inside her pussy, we’re all going to die.
And there is only one way to douse those flames.
I could just step over Coral, as she’s unaware of her surroundings while thoroughly hypnotized. I want her to understand the need, though. Not just my need, but everyone’s.
“You want to live,” I speak with forced calm to Coral’s hypnotized breasts. “And living means accepting that Michael’s cock will always be needed by another lover’s pussy.”
“N…no!” Coral protests. Her breasts look confused, caught in the middle.
“Yes. Michael’s cock is yours, you know that. But Michael’s cock belongs to another as well. It’s an inescapable fact.”
“But…”
“No buts. It’s imperative that I fuck this other pussy. I need to fuck it right now!”
I leave her there, confident that the immersion suggestions are already imprinted, and she will come to accept the wisdom of my actions. The aisle flooring is on fire in spots where Mira’s pussy has dripped. I follow the flames until I come to her legs, spread wide on the floor near the back of the airplane.
“Oh God I need your cock!” Mira cries. Her pussy is glowing, and by it’s fiery light I see the letter “M” branded into the area just above her pussy. It’s the exact opposite of the letter she created above my dick, as her M is shaved bare into surrounding trimmed pubic hair. Mine is raised, hers is indented; she’s an M innie, I’m an M outie… We’re like two interlocking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Like Velcro. Created to be attached. Fitted to each other. Made for each other.
“Hurry!” Mira screams. “Fuck me before we all die!”
It’s going to hurt for a minute, plunging my cock into that consuming fire. I drop my pants, take aim and thrust straight into her molten wetness. My raised M fits precisely into her indented M. and we are joined, M to M. Mira and Michael. Mmmmmmm…
“Michael, wake up.”
“Mmmm?”
“You’re having a nightmare.”
Crap. We were still on the fucking plane, and my dick was about to explode.
“Why are you squirming in your seat like that?” Coral asked. “You look like you have ants in your pants.”
It’s the blistering erection in my pants, which she couldn’t see because of the blanket she offered me earlier. My hard-on rubbed against the five o’ clock shadow of my shaved groin, and everything felt raw and itchy.
“My privates itch,” I whispered to Coral.
The look she gave me would have fit right in if I’d said, “My dick is growing tentacles.” She didn’t know one thing about shaved privates and Mira, but I could see suspicion neurons sending messages throughout her brain.
“What, exactly, did you do with this stripper last night?” she asked. “Don’t tell me we’ll need to take antibiotics to get married.”
I wouldn’t have confessed to the itching dick if I didn’t want part of the truth to come out. How much truth, though? Telling her the whole thing would be suicide, but it wasn’t like I’d be able to hide the damage done to my nether region.
“The stripper last night… Um, she shaved my crotch.”
Coral flinched, and stifled what I hoped was the urge to laugh hysterically. She ended up lightly coughing. “Shaved it how much?”
“Almost totally. It’s… I look like a freak.”
“I see." A long painful pause. "Is there anything else you need to tell me about last night?” she finally asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Just how intimate were you with this stripper?”
“Only enough for her to shave off my pubic hairs.”
“Excuse me if that sounds rather intimate to my ears."
"It wasn't. It was only... You know what I mean."
"Is there a form of insanity that grips men when they congregate in numbers? As in you become incapable of saying 'no' to women with razor blades? Why on earth would you let the entertainer do something like that to you?”
“They tied my hands to a chair. I was helpless. I couldn’t stop it.”
“Your coworkers wanted this to happen? How could they give us — me — a wedding present like that?
“I think… I don’t believe they had any clue it was going to happen. The stripper was kind of a wild card. She might have been nuts, actually.”
She didn’t look happy. Coral wasn’t a woman to go into hysterics, though, or pick a fight just for the rush of fighting. “We’re going to end this particular conversation,” she said in a calm voice. “Unless you have something you need to confess to me.”
I assured her that I didn’t, and she let it be. I refrained from wiggling my legs or shifting in my seat after that, anything that would remind her of the subject. I didn’t fall back to sleep, either, using the rest of the flight to silently work through the meaning of my dreams.
The first one was mostly as Coral had observed — As far as I could see, it was entirely about wish-fulfillment. Completed blowjobs and having Coral dress more seductively… It wasn’t like I didn’t know that I wanted these things. What was interesting was that I turned to the immersion technique to get them.
Two dreams in a row of shaping her mind with the immersion technique. Why would I dream of that, when I would never do it? I used the technique every day, but as a healer, not a thought-rapist. If anything, Coral was my lifeline away from that life.
The second dream went deeper. What was the meaning of only being able to look down? More precisely, I had been prevented from seeing the women’s heads. Dreams are often devilishly clever, and this one could be playing on the phrase “ not being able to see ahead”. Or was it my fixation on controlling their bodies? The immersion technique was all about bringing the mind and the body together, and my misuse of it had been all about subverting the mind by unnaturally revving up the sex centers of the body, creating sexual addictions that worked in my favor.
I moved on, focusing on the fire dripping out of Mira’s cunt. Again, as with the dream some time back of Mira’s giant legs being part of a house, there were questions of structural integrity. Integrity. My integrity? The integrity of this union with Coral, when I had a certain leggy and hypnotized someone haunting my psyche?
A stab of fear went through my heart when I realized that the plane was probably me. What if the dream had some predictive qualities? What if Mira knew the details of our wedding, and intended to drip her way into the ceremony, bringing the whole event down in flames?
I didn’t want my marriage to crash and burn. I loved Coral. In the dream, I simply made my wife-to-be live with the fact that another woman’s hypnotized dripping pussy desperately needed my dick. I forced her into accepting the unacceptable through the immersion technique. No big deal.
If only.
I didn’t think I would like Las Vegas all that much, and I was mostly right. Too hot, too bright, too flashy. Lots of good-looking women, though, and many of them were basking in the sun beside our hotel’s pool. The pool itself was on a ridiculous scale, with a wide sandy beach and numerous islands, each with its own bar. Grace and Lucinda were already soaking up rays when we arrived, Grace sitting at a table drinking a piña colada while Lucinda had drawn a small admiring crowd, watching her parlay her modern dance training into artful dives off of a rocky cliff.
I joined Grace and ordered a beer from our waitress, who looked like a showgirl. All of the waitresses looked like showgirls, or extremely young apprentice hookers.
“Don’t let your Total Package see you looking at the local talent that way,” Grace advised. She nodded in Lucinda’s direction. “Even with all the T and A in sight, those people are just pretending to care about Lucinda’s diving. It’s her dancing body they really love.”
“Typical psychological projection,” I replied. “It’s your own fixation with her body you’re speaking of.”
“Possibly,” Grace granted. “Although I'm content, since I make sure she dives in here every day.” She spread her legs and pointed to her bikini bottom.
“You look hot in that,” I commented. I had never seen Grace wearing so little. She looked great, and it felt right to tell her so.
“And you look like shit, I’m sorry to say. The thought of getting married puts circles under your eyes?
“Bachelor party last night. I haven’t slept.”
“Did you get a blowjob out of it?”
“No,” I lied.
“Not much of a bachelor’s party, then, was it?”
I was about to make some comeback, when I saw Coral walking towards us. Grace followed my gaze. “Holy colliding coconuts!” she whispered, smiling and standing to give Coral a hug.
Coconuts, indeed. I learned later that Coral’s designer swimsuit was named “Capricious”. It was a mostly blue one-piece, with a belt that accentuated her narrow waist. With typical modesty/show-off tension, the neckline was a deep V, showing copious amounts of cleavage as it plunged slightly below the bottom curve of her tits, while a busy starfish and ocean flora pattern tried to conceal — without much success, I thought — the protruding shapes of Coral’s huge nipples. I’d always known that Coral’s top-heavy hourglass figure would look devastating in swimwear, but this was the first time I’d actually seen the effect.
It made me feel prideful, that my bride was an uber-hottie. A miniaturized PRILF, or perfect rack I’d like to fuck. In my head I heard Bill Littlefield’s voice from last night’s bachelor party: We had to search a long time to find somebody exciting enough for tonight. He hadn’t come out and said it directly, but the implication was there — who could they find to turn me on at my bachelor party when my bride was as hot as Coral?
Mira had answered that question for my friends.
I pushed the memories of the night before away, letting them dissipate in the almost blinding sunlight. We drank and caught up for a bit before Coral decided she wanted to test the pool’s waters. “Don't wait for me," she added. "I might want to swim for a couple of hours."
“Hours!” Grace exclaimed.
“She swims every day at the university pool,” I explained. “She’s probably half fish, since she grew up on a boat in the South Pacific.”
“I’ll bet you’re something else at the breast stroke,” Grace commented.
“Although the gods cursed me with fair skin,” Coral replied, ignoring Grace’s blatant flirting. “I’ll burn to a crisp without this rubbed over every inch,” she addressed me, brandishing a large tube of sunblock.
“I'll do it!” Grace interjected.
Coral looked startled, and glanced at me for direction. Grace’s eyes were hidden behind reflective shades, but I could feel them boring into Coral’s breasts. They’d probably never left them since she’d arrived.
“Yes, let Grace do it,” I advised. “Our best man needs the thrill of her lifetime.”
“I won’t bite,” Grace beamed, her white teeth catching the sun. “Although I might cop a feel or two.”
Seeing my stunning wife-to-be in her swim suit was a hardening sight. Watching Grace’s hands massaging shiny goo all over my wife-to-be’s shapely body almost sent me over the brink.
“Was it good for you, too?” I asked Grace once Coral was out of earshot.
“32-E,” she replied, looking half-dazed even with the sunglasses. “I’m sure of it.”
“Actually, we’re sleeping in separate rooms tonight,” I intentionally misunderstood. “She’s up near you tonight in 412. I’m down in 233.”
“Har-har,” Grace responded. “Fucking Christ, Michael… How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Ever take your hands off of those? Off of her? I think I might have an erection!”
“Down girl. That’s my almost-wife you’re talking about. The best man is not supposed to dream about boinking the bride.”
“But your bride’s tits look like they could displace half the water in that pool!”
“You’re beginning to exaggerate. A little.”
“I’m going to make you a promise right now, as your best man. If you ever —ever — screw up your marriage to that treasure, I’m going to be on her like a tongue on a popsicle, and I’m going to make her melt in record time. I give you my word.”
“Can you give me your word that you’ll keep your tongue off of her tonight?”
“Why? Your tongue won’t be on her tonight??”
“Tonight is celibacy night. And I think Coral wants to go out dancing.”
“You won’t tag along? You should… Oh. Right. I remember what happened the last time I took you out dancing. You met a certain pair of legs and…”
“Let’s drop that. But really — I had more than my share of fun last night, and need to get some sleep. It’s Coral’s turn.”
“Girl’s night out! And you found just the right girls! We’ll give those tits the time of their lives!”
“Grace…”
“30-DD? I need to know, and I’m going to find out.”
“Grace…”
“F?”
“Yes, you’re failing miserably. Now promise me…”
“Okay, okay. You can trust your best man for one night. Beyond that, though…” She looked over to the pool, where Coral was swimming laps. “When do her parents arrive? They’re flying all the way here from Sydney, right?”
“Right. They should be here in the late afternoon. Why do you ask?”
“I’m dying to get a look at the bride’s mother, to see which side of the family is responsible for those boobs. Roowwwrr!”
I’m sleeping in my hotel room on the night before my wedding. A knock on the door awakens me.
“My wedding present to you,” Grace says, breezing into the room. She’s wearing an extremely flimsy negligee and heels, and I wonder if the wedding present is a night in bed with her.
“You face me right here,” she directs, sitting cross-legged on the bed. She pulls out a strange deck of cards from somewhere, and begins to shuffle them. “I need you to pick out four cards, slowly. Concentrate, do it seriously, because this is important.”
I sit across from her, trying to focus on the cards, which I cannot see, rather than Grace's tits, which I can easily make out through the thin material. I pull one card out, then another, and two more. Grace aligns them from left to right in front of me in the order in which I chose them.
"The first card is you, as you are now,” she tells me.
She turns the card over. It is me, or an illustration of my face. Only I’m divided in half — there is a literal line of blank space separating the two halves of my head. And on the top of the card, the words, “The Divided Twins”.
“How true," Grace comments. "This next card is your immediate future,” she says, turning the second card face up.
This card says “The Queen of Cups”. The illustration is two breasts, almost overwhelming a lace-up bodice. It’s Coral, or Coral’s big breasts, no doubt about it.
“That’s a good sign,” she comments. "What a pair."
“I agree,” I say, although I'm unsure whether Grace meant us as a couple. She might have been complimenting Coral's tits.
“But we’re only halfway home. This next card represents your longer- term future.”
The third card is called “The Temptress”, and we both know it’s illustration perfectly depicts Mira’s legs, decked out in sexy stockings and heels.
“I can’t accept this,” I say.
“You have no choice,” Grace responds.
“We always have choices,” I argue.
“Not when our lives are part of a tale that’s already written,” Grace answers.
"I don't believe that."
"As though your beliefs are your choice, too. Now stop being obstinate. We still have one more card, Michael. It’s you again, but as you will soon be.”
“I don’t want to see it,” I answer.
“Again, you have no choice,” she says, flipping the card over.
The last card is me once more, and the two halves have been joined. But my face is thinner somehow, and I have a pencil mustache. More, I’m holding a disc in my right hand, a spiral disc that spins around and around, making my eyes grow weary. The card is called “The Hypnotist”.
"I... can't..." I begin, but falter. I want to tell Grace that I can’t accept the truth of this card either, but the spinning disc saps my will, and my mouth goes slack. Even Grace appears affected. I think I hear her slur out the words “Yesss, Masssster…” as her hands grasp the bottom of her negligee, and begin to pull it over her head.
I think I see her breasts, and her head, leaning towards me. I feel lips lightly touching the tip of my cock, and I drift into the warm wet bliss, until it swallows me whole.
A knock on the door awakened me. “Just a minute!” I called out, putting on a robe to cover my dream-induced erection.
“A shot of brandy?” Grace asked, holding a bottle and two small glasses. She breezed into the room as though she owned it. “I put everybody else to bed, including wifey and her lovely tanned parents. You’re off the hook until tomorrow.”
“I've been off the hook since I conked out from exhaustion. How was girl’s night out?” Grace wore a tight miniskirt and a scoop-neck sleeveless blouse rather than a skimpy negligee, but her presence right after the vivid dream gave me déjà vu goosebumps.
She slipped off her shoes and planted herself on the bed. “Your bride can tear up a dance floor like nobody’s business. And the way she shakes those boobs of hers…” she sighed, pouring us two full glasses. “I told her that if she ever tires of teaching, she has an easy professional life awaiting in Las Vegas.”
“That’s nice to know. I think.”
“Here’s to your last night as a bachelor,” Grace said, raising her glass. “To your new life, and the boobies at the center of it!”
We clinked glasses, and downed our brandies in one shot.
“You seem pensive,” she said. “Pre-wedding jitters?”
“Just woozy from sleeping. I was dreaming, something where you told my future with cards.”
“And what does the future hold?”
“Apparently, I’m a hypnotist.”
“Duh.”
“I had one of those thin magician mustaches in the future, and some kind of glowing spiral disc. The whole image of myself like that disturbed me for some reason.”
“Maybe because you’ve used your talent for both good and evil,” Grace replied. “Mostly good, though. I’ll never feel that I can thank you enough for what you did for me, in giving me Lucinda's undying heat.”
“And I’ll never feel like I can thank you enough for finding Coral for me. I think you might have saved my life, by saving me from myself.”
We regarded each other in what could have been an awkward moment. It wasn't though, not with Grace. She did surprise me, though, by leaning in and taking my face in her hands, all before planting a big kiss on my lips. It wasn’t a romantic tongue-filled sex kiss, yet I felt my hard-on twitch anyway.
“I just kissed the groom!" she laughed. "How gay! I mean, I'm the fucking best man!"
"The sexiest best man I've ever seen, too."
She poured us another drink. "Coral is getting a very special man, and I know what you’ve had to give up to get here. I’m proud of you, Michael. And I'll be proud to be there with you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Grace. It wouldn’t be right without you.”
“I love you, too. Although you’re a terrible conniving liar.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?”
“I guessed your bride’s bra size on the first try, and you pretended that I was delusional! Don’t ever make me doubt myself like that, Michael.”
“Sorry. I must have thought it would swell your head too much to be right all of the time.”
We drank one last shot of brandy before she made her way to the door. “About Coral’s bra size…” Grace mused before leaving. “Don’t let me drink before the ceremony, or I might lose control and attack her tits right in front of everybody. And once she feels my lips on those big-ass nipples…”
I threw a pillow at her as she left the room.
It’s funny. I have no problem writing about the most intimate moments of my life, and describing the many contradictions that highlight my emotional and moral weaknesses. But it doesn’t feel right to share the details of my wedding, other than to say it was tasteful, and tender, and that I teared up as Coral promised herself to me.
Afterwards, we did what you’re supposed to do in Las Vegas — we drank and gambled our heads off until the wee hours. Coral’s parents preferred the slot machines, so we all gave those a whirl before graduating to the roulette table, which I felt an affinity for. By the time Coral’s folks, still somewhat jet-lagged, looked like they were fading, Grace and Lucinda were up almost a thousand dollars, I was up three hundred dollars and Coral was down about a hundred more than that.
“Let’s quit while we’re barely behind,” Coral whispered into my ear. “It's time for you to go back into our suite and wait for me under the covers. I’ll say our good-nights and join you in half an hour or so.”
We had rented a honeymoon suite for the next two nights, complete with Jacuzzi and a heart-shaped bed large enough to accommodate two romantic elephants. I showered and slipped naked beneath the covers, waiting for the arrival of my lovely bride. My dick, half-erect, accurately reflected my mood. I missed Coral’s body, and I was definitely horny. At the same time, I feared her reaction to the letter “M” so carefully carved above my cock. Giving in to my concerns, I got out of bed and slipped on a pair of briefs. Perhaps I should have already confessed about Mira’s shaving artistry, because I had a really bad feeling about this.
Coral knocked on the door, rather than entering on her own. When I opened it, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She had gone all out, donning a red leather bustier that made her tits appear even huger than they were, while her tiny waist was further pinched in. Gartered stockings and matching red heels adorned her lovely legs, while long red gloves stretched all the way to her biceps. Beyond that, every inch of her body beneath her neck was “covered” by the thinnest red gossamer cape, which brushed the floor as she strode forward. By nature, my wife had the bright perky face and the proportions of a fuck-toy. Dressed as she was, this fuck-toy looked ready to launch my cum to Mars, or perhaps where no cum had gone before.
“I believe you had a dream-conversation with my tits about lingerie,” she purred, grabbing my now completely stiff cock in one of her small gloved hands and squeezing it hard.
“Holy shit you’re gorgeous,” I said, unable to think of anything more eloquent to say.
“You bet I’m gorgeous,” she replied, pushing me back towards the bed. “I’m your fucking gorgeous wife and I’m going to cream the hell out of my husband’s big hard cock tonight.”
It was unlike the Coral I knew to talk this dirty while making love, or to be this aggressive. I liked it. I liked it very much. I liked it when she ran her tongue crudely and roughly up my neck on the way to my lips, and I liked it when she forced my hands onto her tits, and encouraged me to be rough with them. It was fabulous foreplay, as good as we’d ever had, until she slipped my underwear down my thighs.
Thank God there are no sound effects actually overdubbing the difficult moments of our lives, although I could hear in my own mind the needle being dragged across a vinyl record. Coral came to a complete standstill, to the point that her eyes and lips remained locked in seductress mode even as the shock permeated her system.
“M?” she finally sputtered.
“M.”
She started to giggle. “They thought you needed to be I.D’d, like I wouldn't know who you are?”
Oh thank God, her first reaction was to assume that it was M for Michael!
“So you know you’re in the right room, I guess,” I answered lamely, trying to play along.
We proceeded, although the mood had definitely been altered. Coral’s gung-ho aggressiveness, which was such a turn-on, evaporated. I thought I might be losing her, until I freed her boobs from the confines of the bustier, and had her whimpering just right from sucking forcefully on her sensitive nipples. She rolled me onto my back, and separated one breast from another with her hands, fitting them around my dick from above. Removing a glove, she drooled onto her right hand, and lubricated me to make the gliding that much easier, and more pleasurable. We both loved this, but on the very first forward thrust of her tits, she cried out a loud “OW!” and quickly disgorged my cock from between her breasts.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Fucking stubble-burn!” she declared, looking down at her tits, which were all red in the middle. She sort-of laughed about it at first. For the next ten or fifteen minutes, though, I learned the extent of Mira’s wedding present to the both of us. Whether we used lotion or not, or Coral tried to go at me with her mouth or tits or pussy, the stubble of my shaved crotch dug into her tender flesh. I could pleasure her with my hands or mouth, but my crotch was the sexual equivalent of a construction zone.
I thought for a moment that Coral might be laughing about it when her shoulders shook. The tears in her eyes quickly dispelled that myth.
“How could our friends do this to us?” she cried out. “Your cock is surrounded by sandpaper! This is awful!”
“I could try shaving everything away,” I offered, seeing no other solution.
“No! Then we’d have to do it the next night, and the next! I just… I need to make myself relax, that’s all. It isn’t going to hurt me, it’s just that I tense up!”
Just like she did when giving me a blowjob, I thought.
“If I could only…” she mused.
She might have kept talking, but I wasn’t really there just then. I was inside, with the thought: I could put her in the immersion state, and try to help her body to relax.
“This is the kind of thing you do with your technique, isn’t it?” Coral asked. "Only worse. Much worse pain."
Had she read my mind, or was she coming to it on her own? “Yes, it is. I could… But only if you wanted me to try.”
"I've never been attracted to the idea," she stated flatly.
"I know that."
“Would it work? Could it help me relax, even with the discomfort?”
“There’s a good chance that it could. The treatments we use at the hospital… It’s all about helping the body to relax into the pain. Probably nine-tenths of the pain can be a result of the body’s tensions making a bad situation worse.”
“This is so freaky! You’d be hypnotizing me on our wedding night, just because…”
She stared teary-eyed at my erection, and all the shaved chaos surrounding it. I couldn’t urge her to let me do it. I couldn’t urge her to reject the idea. I waited, holding my breath.
It was weird, how quickly Coral slipped into the immersion state. I had expected layers of resistance, because she had never shown the least inclination of putting her mind in my hands like this. I worked gently with her, guiding her through her arms and the center of her body, and it was almost like the dreams. She was completely suggestible before we’d even gotten to her legs.
I worked only with the task at hand, bolstering her own inherent ability to keep her muscles relaxed when the friction of my stubble touched some sensitive part of her body. As was common in the hospital work, I went even deeper, helping her to recognize the subtle emotional structures that piggybacked on her instinctive wish to avoid pain. It was so much like working with one of my patients, except that Coral continued to look like a half-dressed fuck doll the entire time, lying on a heart-shaped bed on our wedding night. My half-dressed fuck doll, or fuck-doll wife, I thought. Lying there, her breasts bare, nipples hard and standing tall, allowing me to hold her mind in my capable hands so she could awaken and fuck me the way she had intended to fuck me on this very special night.
It didn’t surprise me one bit when images from my recent dreams flooded in, making my already hard cock twitch. Yes, I wanted to go further, ordering her to suck my cock like a whore, and to sometimes dress like a whore, flaunting her figure. Yes, the pull was there, of wanting to fill her mind and body with every sexual wish I could think of.
I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn't do that to my wife. But in these circumstances, where she was finally open, and unguarded, I also couldn’t do nothing.
“You enjoy making love to Michael, don’t you Coral?” I asked, not sure where we would go.
“Oh yesss…”
“Is there anything about your sex life with Michael that you wish could be better?”
No response. Had she heard me? I was about to move on, when she whispered: “I wish I could be more adventurous.”
Well hello! “Adventurous in what way?” I probed.
A very long pause. “I…I’m not sure. Just… more adventurous. That's all.”
It was odd, how she couldn’t specify anything. Not finishing a blowjob seemed like such an obvious candidate to me, but she couldn’t quite get there. I sat on the edge of the bed with my eyes caressing her lovely face, and her mighty breasts, and that tiny taut body. She wasn’t asking to be turned into a hypno-fuckbunny — my secret preference — but in a way she was asking for something. I could just bring her back now, with nothing else, or I could try to bolster, as best I could, the sense of adventurousness that she felt to be missing in bed.
That’s exactly what I did, having her repeat over and over how she wanted to conquer whatever she perceived as her own inner impediments, the tensions or fears that prevented her from being true to herself during sex. It was all so vague and gentle that it really didn’t feel like a manipulation at all. Coral would be unchanged, only more… whatever. Possibly. Or it could be that the suggestions were so unformed as to be totally ineffectual.
Whatever I thought I’d done or not-done, my cock felt ready to shoot hot fireworks into the room as I brought my bride out of her hypnotized state.
“That felt yummy,” were the first words out of her mouth.
“I’m glad you thought so,” I replied.
“I feel so… relaxed.”
“That’s a good first sign.”
She raised her head, and turned towards me, her eyes lighting upon my erection. “You poor thing. Hypnotizing your poor helpless wife made you hard as a rock.”
“Just watching you breathe makes me hard as a rock. You know that.”
“Where’s that lotion?”
“Right here.”
“Pour everything left in the bottle between my tits, you voyeuristic pervert. If you get so hard watching me breathe, it’s time that I breathed right into you, don’t you think?”
It worked for me. It worked for her, too, enough that she fucked me with her tits and came violently, and came again when I later plunged my eager dick deep inside her pussy. With red lingerie littering our giant tacky love bed, we drifted to sleep in each other’s arms, spent and feeling very very married.
I think I dreamed of hypnotizing Coral’s breasts again. What she dreamed of she never told me, but when she awakened an hour later, she said: “Maybe we should shave me between the legs, too, and leave the letter “C” there, so you’ll know when you’re at home.”
"M and C," I mumbled, coming out of the dream about her tits.
“Yes. M and C,” she continued. “Michael and Coral. It sounds good together. They feel really good together.”
She nestled her imagined “C” against my very real “M”, which placed my hardening dick inside of her. As we rocked against each other, each thrust expanding me and plunging me deeper and deeper into her tight tunnel, I heard her repeat, softly at first, but rising in intensity and volume like a cheer: “M and C! Michael and Coral! Milk my cunt! Make me come! Make me come! Oh God, yes, make me come!”
M and C. To me, they would always mean mind-control. Mind and control. Mind over cunt. Magical copulation. Manipulating Coral.
M and C. The thoughts made me come.