The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“So, what is this bash we’re going to?” said Michael Kendle.

“A garden party,” said his father.

They were in the doctor’s car, driving through the back roads of Southern England. It was summer.

“A garden party?”

Dr Malik Kendle was hard pressed to remember a time when his son had sounded quite so appalled. His voice reflected shock, anger and a general belief that the mere existence of garden parties was a crime against nature and his being dragged to one was a crime against humanity. To an extent, Dr Kendle could sympathise. To a nineteen year old lad the notion would probably not sound an awful lot like fun, but that was just too bad.

“Yes, a garden party. And it’s no good looking like that: I’ve said we’re going and that’s an end of it.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Because these are two of my oldest friends and I haven’t seen them for ages.”

Michael thought: that might be a reason for you but why do I have to get roped into it?

His father said, “You ought to cheer up. It might not be as bad as you think. Derrick and Barbara are pretty fun people. Derrick and I go back years. The two of us used to bomb around Tunisia and Morocco back when we were your age.”

Michael’s interest perked up a little at that. Tunisia was where a young Dr Kendle had acquired the skills which had brought such interesting experiences into the lives of those near to him.

“Does that mean —?”

“No, it doesn’t. This is a social occasion with a couple of old friends. It is not an excuse for orgiastic sex.”

“Huh,” said Michael and relapsed into gloom. That was typical, he thought. Raise the prospect that something exciting might happen, then dash it away again. Ever since that business with the young college student, the one they had accidentally turned into a fuck machine, the supply of regular mind control games seemed to have dried up. In Michael’s opinion, the whole Charity Case thing had been an unfortunate accident but his father seemed to hold him personally responsible and had stopped providing women for Michael to play with. As a consequence Michael was having to endure one of the longest sexual droughts that he had ever experienced. He was not enjoying it.

“Don’t say Huh like that. It might come as a shock, but I do have things to do with my time besides providing you with an endless stream of easy sexual conquests. If you want sex that badly, you could try actually talking to one or two women occasionally, do things the traditional way rather than expecting them to just fall onto the end of your cock.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Michael.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

All at once his son’s habitual belligerence gave way to something more uncertain. “It’s just that... well... I... I’m not much good when it comes to talking to girls.”

In fact, since his father’s abilities had allowed him to have as much sex as he wanted ever since puberty he had never acquired the social skills most people eventually develop. Michael had never really needed to know how to talk to women: he had been happy enough just to fuck them.

His father said, “You won’t ever get better unless you give it try. Do it today. See if you can find a girl and actually exchange a few words with her. Something different from ‘Yes, yes’ and ‘I’m coming’.”

Michael nodded without any great enthusiasm.

“All right, I’ll try. Assuming that there’s anyone there to try with. Chances are they’ll all be about a hundred and fifty.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. According to Derrick there’s going to be at least one girl your age at the party: Rachel Kidd.”

He said this with the air of a magician drawing a rabbit from a hat, but Michael just looked blank.

“Who the heck is Rachel Kidd?”

“Well, as her mother will no doubt wish to remind you, you and she used to spend many happy hours running around the house naked when you were both about three and a half.”

Michael grimaced. It was the kind of story that old people always insisted on telling and he could never understand why. After all, the wrinklies knew it already and the kids didn’t care so what the hell was the point?

He said, “Yeah, and that’s really going to mean we’ll have an awful lot in common, isn’t it?”

“Look, just try to do this for me,” said the doctor. “Make an effort. It might turn out to be more fun than you think.”

Rachel’s mother, Rosemary Kidd was perched a little awkwardly on a sun-lounger at the edge of the lawn. She was wearing a dark, heavily-woven skirt which came most of the way down her calves and a prim white blouse, buttoned to the neck. A champagne flute, its contents gradually going warm, was clenched in her right hand.

The sun was hot (surprisingly so, for so early in the summer), the sky was blue and the party was bubbling away, but none of these facts made any impression on Rosemary. Her face was taut and her eyes were narrowed with anxiety. As always seemed to be the case these days, she was looking for Rachel, thinking about Rachel, wondering about what Rachel might be doing.

A little way down the grassy bank, a trio of young people were sprawled across a blanket on the ground. They hadn’t bothered to introduce themselves (no one bothered with anything so formal as introductions any more) but Rosemary understood that they were professional colleagues of Barbara’s. Apparently they worked in her company’s accounts department. There were three of them, two women and a man. All three were in their twenties and all three looked as if they had come straight out of an accounting meeting. In fact, they didn’t so much look as if they had come out of it as if they had taken it with them. The glasses of wine by their feet were their only concessions to informality, and even they looked as if they had scarcely been touched. All three of of the young were wearing suits which looked unnecessarily formal and they were talking in loud voices about cost ratios, spreadsheets and “arbitrage”—whatever the hell that was. It wasn’t remotely interesting, but Rosemary was trying to listen anyway. She was looking for anything that might serve as a distraction.

It didn’t do any good. Within a few minutes, the shrill little voice in her head had started up again. Where has she gone? What is she doing? Is she going to be all right? A part of her knew she was being ridiculous. Rachel as the girl occasionally tried to point out—was old enough to look after herself. But Rosemary was unable to see it that way. She no longer worried that Rachel might get lost in crowds or swept away by the sea, but other, more adult anxieties had appeared in their place. Since Rachel had turned eighteenth and had started planning for college these seemed to get ever more pressing. It wasn’t that Rosemary distrusted Rachel. Oh no, definitely not that. She had done her best to bring her girl up well and thought that she had done a pretty good job of it, considering. Rachel was clever and smart, articulate and well-adjusted. If the only thing that Rosemary had had to think about was Rachel them she would have been perfectly happy. But it wasn’t just Rachel that she had to think about. There was the rest of the world to think about, and the rest of the world was scary.

The rest of the world—the male rest of the world—would not look at her daughter and seen charm and wit and intelligence. They would see blond hair and breasts whose youth and shapeliness was clearly apparent, even beneath the baggy summer dresses her mother encouraged her to wear. Rosemary, the survivor of a messy divorce involving a much younger woman knew exactly what men would see when they turned their eyes to Rachel. They would see slim ankles, graceful thighs, an invitation to sex. They would not see that Rachel was not nearly ready for any of that stuff.

Rosemary gulped her drink, not really tasting it. There were a lot more people here than she had expected. “Just a few old friends”—that was how Derrick had described it. “A few old friends getting together to grill a few burgers on the fire.” In fact, there were sixty or seventy people here, most of them strangers. She had been relieved to discover that most were sensible middle-age professionals: bankers, accountants, programmers, people like that. None of those ghastly, dangerous young man who routinely haunted her dreams. But there were still a lot more of them than Rosemary would have liked. And there were all those thick bushes around the edge of the garden. If you disappeared into that foliage, well, just about anything might happen.

Just as she was forming the thought, Rosemary saw the bushes opposite her fluttering. For a moment, her heart leaped up into her throat. But then she saw that it wasn’t Rachel coming through the bushes. Of course it wasn’t! What on Earth would Rachel be doing disappearing into the bushes? It was just one of the catering assistants. Well, Derrick had called them catering assistants, but Rosemary reckoned they were just a couple of college students who had been pulled in with the promise of a few quid and any booze left over at the end of the evening.

As she looked at the girl and her overloaded tray, Rosemary felt her mouth pursing in disapproval. It was the uniform that did it. If you asked the man who had designed it (and in Rosemary’s mind there was absolutely no question that it had been a man who designed it) he would have blathered on about how it was supposed to make the wearer look smart and sophisticated, but so far as Rosemary could see the sole point of the costume was to expose the girl’s legs and reveal the shape of her breasts. Not that this particular girl needed any help in that department. She was the kind who would draw men’s eyes, the way a dropped chicken leg draws ants.

And, sure enough, thought Rosemary, here was one now, coming to get an eyeful. Her gaze grew even more censorious as she realised that she knew the man in question: it was that ghastly Malik Kendle. He was one of the few people here whom Rosemary knew and, to be honest, she would have a lot happier if she hadn’t.

There was something unsavoury, maybe even sinister, about Doctor Kendle. He was always impeccably dressed and his thick, closely cropped hair and slightly greying beard ought to have enhanced his air of gravitas, but there was something about him that Rosemary did not like. Maybe it was the way he spoke. He was unfailingly quiet and polite, but she could never escape the feeling that there was an undertone of mockery in everything he said, a sense that he knew himself to be smarter more knowledgeable than you.

The other thing she did not like about Doctor Malik was that he never went anywhere without that awful son of his... No sooner had that thought formed than another one came crashing down on its heels. Rosemary’s head swung round so fast it looked as if someone had jabbed her in the neck. Her eyes were naturally protuberant, and they seemed to jump out of their sockets as she stared across the lawn and saw that her worse fears had been realised.

The obnoxious Michael Kendle was standing a couple of feet away from the barbecue. He had a glass in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. If Malik Kendle was sinister then his son was positively frightening. He was slender but well muscled. He had strong shoulders, slim hips and the effortless good looks which Rosemary reacted to in much the same way that a horse reacts to a rattlesnake. He had poise and charm and money and, right this moment, he had the total, one hundred percent attention of her daughter.

Rachel was sipping her drink (it looked like Coke and Rosemary hoped to God that that was all it was) and looking at Michael with the kind of open, inquiring expression that men were all too willing to misinterpret. Rosemary had no idea how long the two of them had been talking or what they might be talking about, but she was in no doubt that this was a conversation which had to be broken up immediately.

As she got nearer to the flames (“of damnation” her brain insisted on adding, even though it was really just a barbecue) she heard Michael saying, “And of course the handling is wonderful.” For a ghastly moment she thought that the conversation had moved on far quicker and more disgracefully than she could have imagined, but then she realised that he was talking about his car. Rosemary relaxed by the tiniest of fractions; Rachel had no interest in cars. The subject had come up a couple of times (well, more than just a couple) since her daughter’s last birthday, but each time the conclusion had been the same: Rachel was too young to be thinking about driving. And anyway, there was no need; if she needed to go anywhere her mother was always on hand to take her. And to pick her up afterwards, of course.

Anyway, this was no time to be thinking about cars. This was time to be making sure that her daughter was not being troubled by this dangerously good-looking young man.

“Excuse me,” said Rosemary, deliberately pushing her body into the space between them. She was far too angry to notice how bashful Michael was looking. “I don’t want to seem rude, but I would prefer it if you didn’t impose yourself on my daughter. It might come as a surprise to you to learn but Rachel is a respectable girl with a brilliant academic career in front of her. I didn’t bring her to this party to be molested by over-eager young bucks with no control of their libidos. If you can’t get through an entire afternoon without feeling the need to show off your no-doubt glittering chatting-up technique then can I suggest that you go and try them out on someone more your own type.” She leaned a little closer to make sure that no one apart from Michael would hear the last bit. “If you can find anybody who fits the bill, that is.”

She took Rachel’s hand and pulled her away, leaving Michael holding his drink and looking utterly crestfallen.

Malik Kendle wasn’t quite sure what drew his attention away from the young catering assistant. Whatever it was, it was probably just as well. The Doctor had gone to help himself to a bit of chicken and maybe another glass of this rather good champagne, but as reached for the tray he found his gaze straying first to the girl’s breasts and then to her eyes and the next thing he knew, his voice was dropping into that low, sonorous drone which he had employed so many times before.

It really was too bad of him, he thought. Especially after he had given Michael such a hard time about always depending on The Technique. It was all Derrick Archer’s fault. If his friend hadn’t got so old and dull and if all his friend’s friends hadn’t been so rich and square and boring, he wouldn’t have been thinking about what he could do to liven the day up. There was a trio of young people over on the edge of the lawn, fit, healthy, in the prime of their young lives. It was a beautiful day and all they could find to talk about was accounts. And they were three of the more interesting guests: it was no wonder Malik was feeling restless.

And the catering girl was just the kind of distraction he enjoyed. A few minutes conversation was enough to suggest to that she had the kind of potential he appreciated in a woman. As he murmured to her, her fingers rose up and undid a couple of buttons on her blouse. Since the garment had not been overly fastened before, the improvement to the view was considerable. The Doctor was casting his mind around for a scenario into which the girl would fit, when the interruption—whatever it was—drew his eyes away.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Rachel and Rosemary marching across the garden. Rosemary had her hand clamped around her daughter’s wrist and her face was taught with anger. Rachel looked embarrassed. Following the trail back across the crowded lawn, the Doctor’s gaze eventually connected with his son. As soon as it did, the Doctor forgot all about the waitress.

“What happened?” Doctor Kendle demanded, plucking the bottle from his son’s unresisting fingers.

“Nothing,” said Michael. “Really. Nothing at all.”

“Don’t give me that. You look like you’ve been slapped in the face.”

The chatter of other people’s carefree conversations surged and flowed around them. Without even thinking about it, the Doctor reached into his mental bag of tricks and employed a bit of The Technique which came in useful every now and then.

“Just tell me, Michael. Nobody apart from me can hear anything you say. Nobody is going to notice you. You can say whatever you need.”

Michael drew a big gulp of air into his throat. His face was blotched and puffy. It really was a long time since the Doctor had seem him this upset.

“We were talking.”

“You and Rachel?”

“Yeah. We were talking. That is to say, I was trying to talk to her. You know, the way you said I should. It wasn’t easy. I’m crap at that sort of thing and she wasn’t giving me any help at all, just looking at me with this sort of puzzled half-smile on her face as if she couldn’t work out if she found me comical or disgusting. But I was trying. I really was trying. And then her mother showed up.”

“Rosemary?”

“Yeah. The bitch.”

“What did she say?”

“I—”

It was clear that the boy did not want to say any more. Malik knew that he could always have used the Technique on him and made him open up, but that was something that he had long ago promised himself he was never going to do. The Technique was for entertainment: it wasn’t for screwing around with people who mattered to you, not when something important was be at stake.

“Tell me, Michael. What did Rosemary say to you?”

After a while the boy spilled out the story. The doctor listened. There was no particular expression on his face but the corner of his mouth was twitching very slightly.

“’More your own type’?” he said, eventually. His voice was dangerously quiet.

“That’s what she said.”

“Right,” said Doctor Kendle. He rubbed his hands together. “Stay here a minute, would you.”

He turned and walked over over to the barbecue.

Michael hardly even noticed that he was gone. The boy was staring straight down at his shoes. He felt utterly disconsolate. He had very little experience of being spoken to like that, especially when he didn’t think he had done anything to deserve it. All I was doing was talking to her, he thought. Just talking. Nothing else. That isn’t a crime, is it? Apparently it was.

He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“You know what they say about falling off a horse?”

Michael stared blankly. He didn’t get it. Then he did. “You want me to try and talk to her again?” he exclaimed. “Oh man, no way, you have got to be kidding.”

“Try it,” his father insisted. “I think you might get a different answer this time.”

And the Doctor tilted his head as if sniffing the air. Michael frowned, then followed suit. His eyes widened. The wind had suddenly turned and blown the smoke from the barbecue in their direction. Michael could smell something on the air, something he had not smelled for a long time. The aroma was a bit like cinnamon and a bit like five-spice and not exactly like either. He glanced at his father and, by way of confirmation he spotted the top of the small white paper packet protruding from the Doctor’s lapel pocket. The seal had been torn off.

“You didn’t?” said Michael.

“I did,” said the Doctor. “Bunch of boring bastards. It’s about time somebody did something to liven up their lives.”

“But you said...”

“I know what I said. But circumstances alter cases. I think you ought to go after your friend and strike up another conversation.”

“I can’t,” said Michael. “She’s gone.”

The two men looked around and, sure enough, Rosemary was alone, perched on the edge of her lounger. She was glowering at her fellow guests like a sniper on the look-out for a promising target.

“She’ll be back,” said the Doctor, confidently He had already spotted Rachel trotting towards the house with the quick, slightly uncomfortable gait of someone who sees a bathroom visit looming large in their short-term future.

“Although, now I think about it, her absence might work to our advantage. I’d like to be a part of this as well. Give me a few moments while I go over and talk to the old dragon. When you see the signal, just just mosey on over.”

“What’s the signal?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Where are you going?” said Rosemary.

“Somewhere small,” her daughter snapped and stomped off across the lawn, slim hips swaying defiantly. She was unaware of how many eager eyes were directed after her, but her mother saw and worried. Sometimes, it seemed to Rosemary that everything that happened just left her feeling more unhappy and confused. She hadn’t expected Rachel to be pleased at having been dragged across the lawn like that, but she had hoped that the girl would try and understand. But Rachel had reacted as if Rosemary was the one who was being unreasonable.

“I was just trying to stop him from bothering you.”

“He wasn’t bothering me, mother. All he was doing was talking.”

“Oh yes, just talking. That’s how it always starts, But it’s never how it ends.”

Rachel thought about this as she strolled towards the house. Her mother was always making dark pronouncements like that. As far as Rosemary was concerned, the male half of the world was made up of barely controlled animals, fierce ungovernable creatures whom you always had to be on your guard against. Rachel had looked at her experiences of school and the few out-of-school social activities that her mother allowed her to take part in, and was fairly sure that this was not the case. But how could she be certain? Maybe she would find out if Rosemary ever let her get close enough to a boy to have a conversation with him.

It had almost happened just now, and the boy in question had not seemed all that threatening. In fact, he had seemed bashful and awkward and almost painfully shy. She would have tried to help, but thanks to her mother she was almost as tongue-tied and uncomfortable as he. This was not the first time this had happened (although it was the first time that she had been physically dragged away from the encounter) and she had a worrying feeling that her lack of responsiveness was earning her a reputation for being cold and stand-offish. She wished she could correct this but did not know how to begin.

As she stepped onto the patio she just happened to glance at the young man who had been trying to talk to her. She wondered if she say something to him by way of an apology, but was worried what her mother might say if she tried. She might still have tried if the boy had been on his own, but he was talking to a tall bearded man in a old-fashioned jacket, she Rachel lost her nerve.

In consequence she did not see the Doctor walk over and empty the small white sachet onto the fire (but then again, nobody else at the party saw that either). Nor did she see him come back, exchange a few words with his son and then walk over to her mother.

“Hello, Rosemary.”

She almost fell off her seat.

She had been scanning the crowd again, looking for either Derrick or Barbara. She had decided that it was time to be gone. The party had been ruined and the best thing she could do was make her apologies and leave.

“Mind if I sit down?”

His voice was smooth and melodious. She looked into his face and noticed for the first time just how large and dark his eyes were. You could almost drown in them.

“Rosemary?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. “What is it?”

The sun was streaming down into the garden. It felt as hot as high summer. She could feel the perspiration prickle under her arms. Her blouse seemed suddenly constricting.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

Of course she minded. He had clearly come to pick a fight with her. That was the last thing she wanted. But she could hardly tell him to go away, could she? She had done it to the son, but the father was a very different prospect. He lowered himself onto the ground beside her and she noticed how gracefully he moved. She noticed also that even after his position had altered she was still looking into his eyes. Now, how could that be happening?

“It’s suddenly turned warm hasn’t it?”

She wondered if she had been wrong about him wanting to pick a fight. He did not look angry and his voice was almost amiable. And he was right about the weather. The ludicrous long skirt she had decided to put on was pressing against her legs as if it was an electric blanket on which someone was turning up the thermostat. Her mouth was dry and she could feel the perspiration running down into her eyes.

“It has,” she admitted. “I’m baking.”

“It’s that silly skirt, you’ve got on that’s causing all the problems. It’s really far too heavy for this weather.”

“I happen to rather like it.”

“I’m sure you do. But it’s making you uncomfortable. I think you should take it off.”

Her eyes widened in shock, but somehow she was still unable to remove her gaze from the Doctor’s face. There was something fascinating about him, about his voice, his eyes. She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his finger to his lips and the words seemed to die in her throat.

“I’m just being practical. As long as you keep that skirt on you’re just going to get hotter and more uncomfortable. If you slip it off then you’ll feel an awful lot better. Your blouse is long enough to cover your blushes if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she got a chance to speak a more imperative tone took over his voice.

“Just do it, Rosemary. Just do it right now.”

She jumped to her feet, surprised to discover that she was feeling a trifle dizzy. How had that happened? Surely she hadn’t been drinking that much? She looked into the Doctor’s eyes and he smiled encouragingly and she wondered how she could have ever thought that there was anything sinister about him.

She found the fastener at the waist of her skirt and then the zip, and then the fabric dropped to the grass. She felt a bit self-conscious standing there with her legs exposed, especially as the wind chose that moment to flutter the hem of her blouse, which was not half as concealing as the Doctor had suggested. She was about to say something about this when got a whiff of the smoke that had been carried on the wind.

Somebody must have put something nice on the barbecue. Some kind of desert. She could smell cinnamon or cloves. Something exotic. But nice. Something very nice. She drew in a deep breath, letting the scented air flow down into her lungs.

Her breasts were tingling. It was so long since she had experienced the sensation that it took her a moment or two to realise what it was. There was no mistake, they were definitely tingling. They felt swollen and heavy, uncomfortably confined. Not really thinking about what she was doing she let her hands run up her body until she was cupping herself. The action served to pull the hem of her shirt up by several interesting inches.

(As she did this, she heard one of the female accountants sitting just down wind of her mutter rather crossly, “That’s a bit much isn’t it? There are kids here after all.”

“Feeling threatened?” her male companion asked.

“What did you say?”

“I said, “Are you feeling threatened? Because her legs are better than yours?”

“No, of course I’m not. And anyway, they aren’t.”

“Why don’t you prove that to me?")

“I think you ought to sit down,” the doctor said.

Rosemary was pleased to comply. She stretched herself out on the sun lounger and spread her legs out languidly. The sun was still warm but she felt so much better now that she could feel the air on her thighs.

“Now that you’re a bit more comfortable, I’d like to have a few words with you. I think you just said something rather unpleasant to my son.”

All at once the Doctor’s eyes did not look so soft or kindly, but she still found herself unable to look away.

“I —” she began.

“Yes?” said the Doctor.

“I felt I had to.”

And it was true, at the time she had really felt she had to. But now, looking back on the incident, she found that she felt bad about it. The boy had not been doing anything that terrible had he? He’d just been talking to Rachel, hadn’t he? Well, obviously he had been talking to her as a prelude to trying to fuck her, but that was just natural, wasn’t it? Rosemary took another breath of the heavy, scented air and loosened the buttons on her shirt. She really had been quite rough to the boy. Surely he hadn’t deserved that much of the rough end of her tongue.

Too her relief, she saw that the Doctor was smiling at her again.

“It’s all right, Rosemary,” he was saying. “I understand. Honestly I do. You’re divorced, aren’t you?”

She started to say, “What’s that got to do with anything?” But again he lifted his finger to his lips, and again she forgot what she had been going to say.

“No, need to speak. Just nod if I’m right. You’re divorced.” It was not really a question this time, but she nodded anyway. “Didn’t know how to keep your husband happy in bed, so he dumped you for a younger, fitter, prettier model. Don’t worry it happens all the time.”

His voice was gentle and consoling. Rosemary got the impression that he really didn’t want her to worry about her abject failure to prevent her husband from chasing after at other bits of totty.

“I guess nobody ever taught you about all those things you need to do if you’re going to keep a man satisfied. All those dirty, filthy things. And now you look at Rachel and you worry that she’s going to end up in exactly the same situations. I know how you feel. I have exactly the same concerns about my Michael.”

Rosemary thought: that’s not right. I do worry about Rachel, I worry all the time. But I definitely don’t worry about that. I worry about, about... Rosemary sat up, peeled off her shirt and tossed it in the direction of the shrubbery. She realised she had no idea what she always worried about.

Before she could think that one through she heard an outraged cry of, “Mum!” and at the same time she heard the Doctor say, “And by a wild coincidence, here are the two young people just come back to join us.”

For the first time in quite a while, Rosemary found she was able to take her eyes away from the doctor’s face. She blinked up at her daughter who was staring at the scene with an expression of utter astonishment. Over Rachel’s left shoulder, Rosemary could see Michael Kendle, is features set in an expression of amused approval.

“I must say you do look better with a lot fewer clothes on. Tits not too saggy at all, considering. Shame your underwear is so mundane though.”

“Mum!” exclaimed Rachel a second time.

“Do try and calm down, dear. If your voice gets any higher the only things that will be able to hear your will be dogs.”

“But. You. You’re not...”

Rachel appeared to know the words she wanted to say but had lost the ability to assemble them into a coherent sentence.

“Oh do lighten up, darling. We can’t go through our whole lives being so stuffy and restricted. Sometimes you’ve got to loosen up a bit. It’s not as if I’m the only one who’s shedding a few clothes. In fact I’d say that half the garden’s busy getting their kit off. You’d better do the same if you don’t want to feel out of place.”

Looking around, Rachel was stunned to discover that what her mother had said was pretty near the truth. Not everyone had yet thrown all caution to the winds, but most of them appeared to have decided that the local conditions were better suited to the removal of a certain number of garments.

The two business girls who had been sitting just along the bank from them had seemed to have got most strongly into the new spirit of things. They had shed their rather boring jackets and skirts to reveal surprisingly skimpy underwear. Both of them looked pleased at finding that the other had put on red this morning, though not as pleased as their young, male colleague who lazily spinning a champagne bottle on the ground to decide which of the girls was going to have to take something off next.

The neck of the bottle came to rest pointing at the blonde. She giggled happily and then unbuttoned herself. She gave a little wriggle as she chucked the bra away.

“Tits that small,” the man said, “I don’t know why you bother with a bra at all.”

“They’re not the biggest,” the girl admitted, running her fingers over them. It was a process she evidently enjoyed because her fingers lingered where she had placed them, slowly but insistently pulling at the nipples. They were, Rachel noticed, almost exactly the same colour as bubble gum. They were stiffening and swelling in the summer air. “But they feel really nice to touch. Do you want to try?”

“In a minute,” said the young man, and spun the bottle again.

“You see,” said Rosemary. “Everybody’s getting into the spirit of the thing.”

“And besides,” said the tall, grey-haired man who was sitting on the ground beside her mother. “Unless you take your clothes off, we won’t be able to proceed with your lesson.”

“Lesson?” said Rachel. She sounded a little bit muzzy, as if her mouth was no longer entirely running under her control. It was the first time she had heard the tall man speak and she was amazed at how melodious his voice was. How commanding.

“Yes indeed,” the gentleman replied. “Your lesson. Or perhaps I should call it your education. What the Victorians would, I believe refer to as A Young Lady’s Introduction To The Arts Of Love.

“You see,” he continued. “Your mother and I have been talking it over and we agreed that it is well past time for you to be inducted into the delights of sexual intercourse. And since my son has been going through a dry patch so far as sexual activity is concerned and consequently has what can only be described as a massively stiff cock, he should be the one to bestow that experience on you.”

It was about this time that Rachel realised something must have gone dramatically wrong with her mind or the universe or both. She couldn’t be hearing these thing. And she certainly couldn’t be hearing them spoken in that soft, articulate voice. And she definitely, definitely could not be hearing them while her mother lay only a couple of feet away with her legs spread wide apart and a look of obvious approval on her face.

In fact, Rachel realised, it was more than just approval that her mother was displaying. Rosemary’s face was flushed, her pupils dilated. It was almost as if she was eager to see her daughter undressed, her daughter inducted. Her next words only served to bear this out.

“Let’s face it darling, we all know you’re going to be fucking sooner or later. That’s just the way it is these days. You’ve got to let go of your virginity sooner or later, and it might as well be with a man who knows what he’s doing.” She turned towards Michael and grinned lasciviously. “You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“I bet you do. You see, darling, you’re in the hands of an expert. So let’s not have any more nonsense. You just take your clothes off and let the Doctor tell you what to do next.”

Rachel blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t know you were a doctor.”

“Yes indeed. Doctor Malik Kendle at your service. Although under present circumstances I suppose it would be more accurate to say that your were at our service. Still, we don’t need to let a minor technicality get in the way of progress. The important thing is: we are here to help you and your mother and in order for us to do that you have to take your clothes off. That may seem a little difficult, but if you take a couple of deep breaths I think you’ll find it’s easier than you imagine.”

This didn’t seem at all likely to Rachel, but she supposed she ought to give it a go (he was a doctor after all) so she drew a few hesitant breaths into her lungs.

There was more than a whiff of smoke on the air and she thought it was going to make her cough, but it didn’t. Instead it made her feel nice. It was a bit like the way she felt after exercising except that the sensations seemed to be most focused in certain intimate parts of her body. She looked around for encouragement and her eyes fell on the two young accountants.

One of them, the blonde, was now completely naked and the other was standing on the edge of the blanket wearing only a pair of red knickers. She was saying, “I suppose you want me to take these off now, Tony.”

Tony was flat on his back, sipping champagne and thoroughly enjoying the view. “Actually,” he said, “I don’t think I would. I’d think I’d like you to just stand there, Heather. Trudi, I’d like you to take Heather’s knickers down for me.” As Trudi rolled over and moved forward to comply, Tony added happily, “No hands. Just do it using your teeth.”

Trudi’s giggle was clearly audible over the noise and commotion in the garden. “Kinky sod,” she muttered, but made no other protest as she got herself into a position where she would be able to fulfil the instruction. Rachel watched with growing fascination as the slender blonde tipped her head forwards applied her mouth to the waistband of her colleague’s flimsy panties. It was hard to tell if Trudi was really finding it difficult or if she was simply taking her time. The further down the knickers came and the more of Heather’s pubic bush was revealed to the appreciative onlookers, the more Trudi’s lips seemed to be slipping and sliding and rubbing against the soft, excited flesh. Heather’s hands moved round and took a grip on the back of Trudi’s head, pushing her face forward and down so that one pair of lips was gradually pushed into contact with another.

“I told you not to move,” called Tony, but there was laughter in his voice, and Rachel was pretty sure he was not too angry about the way that things were developing. Heather seemed to be enjoying herself to. Her hips were thrust forward and her head was tilted up towards the sky. Her large, dark nipples were standing stiff and proud.

Rachel discovered that there was something exhilarating about the sight. She wanted to see more, wanted to see the two girls doing more. This had never happened before. She had seen girls with their clothes off of course, at school and in other places too, but it had never affected like this, never left her with such a sense of excitement. Without really thinking about it, she took another deep breath of the fragrant air, held it in her lungs and slowly let it out.

As soon as she did this, the feelings inside her seemed to intensify. The ache in her breasts grew deeper, more insistent. She was incredibly aware of the feel of her own nipples. She found herself thinking, “Right now they are stiff, erect, excited”. Each words seemed charged with its own particular thrill. Every part of her body felt alert. Looking at the two more-or-less naked accountants, the idea filled her mind that she, too, could act like that. She wanted to act like that.

She started to unbutton her blouse.

She told herself that once she got started she was just going to go for it, she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way. But as she kicked her skirt free from her ankles (her shirt was already gone) the realisation of exactly what she was doing seemed to strike her like her physical force. She could feel the air on her legs, on her belly and her breasts. She understood that she was standing half naked in a public place. She pushed the bra straps off her shoulders, reached behind and started to undo the poppers, but nerves had got the better of her. She stopped with the garment still just about hanging together.

“I don’t want to do this,“she said.

“Do you not?” said the doctor.

“No,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed at being seen naked?”

“Yes.”

“Embarrassed at the thought of all these strangers seeing you without any clothes on?”

“Yes,” she said again, her voice within a sliver of inaudibility.”

“It’s all right to be embarrassed,” the doctor told her kindly. “In fact, for a lot of men, the fact that a young woman is flushing, blushing, obviously abashed by the fact of her own nudity adds a whole extra layer of pleasure to the experience. What is not all right is to let your feelings get in the way of doing what I tell you. There are a good number of men in this garden. They are expecting you to undress. And that is what you are going to do.”

Rachel could feel her own mind buckling under the pressure, wanting to give in and just accept whatever he was telling her. But still the force of the things that she had been brought up to believe prevented her from succumbing to his instruction.

“I can’t” she whispered. Her voice quiet, on the very edge of tears. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“Yes you can.” The doctor’s voice was every bit as quiet, but infinitely compelling. Listening to it was like breathing anaesthetic. Hearing the doctor speak, it was impossible to imagine she would ever have the will or desire to argue against whatever he happened to be saying.

“There is nothing stopping you from doing what we want you to do apart from your own self. Listen to me, Rachel. Women’s bodies are made to be looked at. They are made to be enjoyed both visually and physically. And women enjoy being looked at. Some women deny it and some women admit it, but there is not a woman alive who does not know it. You know it, don’t you Rachel? You know the desire to flaunt yourself, to expose yourself, the desire to give and receive pleasure.”

The words seemed to be curling around inside her, caressing the core of her being. She sighed, long and deep and whispered, “Yes, I know.”

“So just go and do it.”

Her fingers hardly even fumbled as she released the poppers. Rachel glanced at her mother and saw that Rosemary’s face was taught with excitement. She nodded ever so slightly, and somehow the smallness of the gesture served to convey just how keen the older woman was to see her daughter bared to the word.

For the first time in Rachel’s life she felt fresh air and warm sunlight falling on her breasts. Her nipples responded immediately. Her breath caught at the back of her throat.

“And the rest,” the doctor told her.

Before her own uncertainties had any more chance to get in the way and stop her, Rachel reached down and slipped her fingers into the waistband of her knickers and then peeled them away from her body. She heard a low, appreciative noise from directly behind her, and knew that the young man, the doctor’s son, was looking at her unclothed body and enjoying what he was seeing.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” said the doctor.

Astonishingly, Rachel discovered he was right. It did feel good. Shocking, outrageous, but undeniably good.

“This is the whole point,” the doctor said. “By giving in and doing what other people want we gain pleasure for ourselves. Let me give you another example.” He paused for a moment. “You have very shapely breasts, my dear. Very nice to look at. Have you ever allowed any one to play with them before?”

In spite of everything that had happened, the specific intimacy of this question shocked her into wordlessness. All she could do was shake her head in answer.

“No,” said the doctor. “I didn’t think you had. But I think that you ought to. I think you ought to let my son do it to you. Don’t be afraid,” he added, for an expression of panic had flickered across Rachel’s face as the details of what was being asked registered on her soft and pliable mind. “You really do not need to be afraid. It will be infinitely more pleasurable than you can currently imagine. Michael has extremely skilful hands. Just relax and you’ll find that you will enjoy what he can do to you. Isn’t that right, Rosemary?”

Her mother nodded eagerly.

“Yes, that’s right. That is so, so right.” Rachel thought her mother sounded more than a little drunk. The words were tumbling off her tongue like a parade of befuddled lemmings. “You just stand there and let the young man play with your tits. You’ll be amazed how nice it feels.”

“It’s something that’s always done it for you, isn’t it, Rosemary?”

And, by way of illustration, the doctor ran a finger over her mother’s breast. The movement started at the top of Rosemary’s cleavage and ran in a long, curving arc until it grazed the edge of her nipple. Rosemary gasped, and her body clearly juddered in the chair. Something about the uninhibited physicality of her mother’s response sent an answering surge of excitement through Rachel’s body. Although she still felt nervous and self-conscious, there was an increasingly large part of her which was responding to the various activities which were unfolding all around her. She wanted to throw off her inhibitions, throw them off as thoroughly as her clothes.

She half turned around to face Michael, but as she did, the doctor said, “No, don’t turn round. It’s going to be much more entertaining if we can see your body and observe how you react.”

Rachel was struck by how reasonable he sounded. He had the capacity to say the most outrageous things as if they were perfectly normal and natural. As another plume of wood smoke wafted across and filled her open mouth she also realised how nice it felt to do what the doctor told her.

She took a half step backward and for the first time felt Michael jeans-clad legs touching her naked bottom. There was something large and rigid distorting the shape of the fabric, and when she realised what it was she gave a little gasp. But before she could offer any further response, she felt his hands stroking her belly and moving slowly up and onto her breasts.

The sensations as he began to fondle and caress her were like nothing she had ever experienced. Her vagina began to open, to become loose and heavy and wet.

“You’re enjoying your lesson aren’t you, my dear?” said the doctor.

“Oh Christ, yes!”

The moment the words were out, Rachel found herself glancing at her mother: Rosemary was a stickler for decorum and even then mildest profanity was generally the cue for a long and angry lecture. But Rachel soon realised that normal rules of behaviour had just gone out the window. From the expression on Rosemary’s face it was obvious that the sight of her daughter’s uncontrolled excitement was having a highly stimulating effect.

As she noticed this, it occurred to Rachel that there was something pretty peculiar going on. It wasn’t just her mother’s behaviour or the increasingly explicit displays of sexual activity which were occurring all over the garden; there were her own physical responses to think about. She had never known anything like this overpowering surge of pleasure. It was extraordinarily nice, but surely it wasn’t natural? Rachel might lack experience, but she wasn’t completely ignorant. She had heard and read a few things about sex, and nothing she had heard had ever suggested that it was normally like this. Wasn’t there meant to be something called foreplay, maybe even something called conversation before you found yourself in this state? It was as if there was a button on the front of her head printed with the legend “sexual arousal” and the doctor had just reached out and turned it all up.

She might have said something about this (and if she had, the doctor might have replied that she was nowhere near full-on, not ever half-way yet) but before she got a chance, Michael took a solid grip on each of her engorged nipples and twisted them in opposite directions. It ought to have been painful. In fact, a part of her mind was vaguely aware that it actually was quite painful, but somewhere between her breasts and her head the sensation got turned around and twisted into a hot skewer of pleasure which rose right between her legs. She let out another gasping cry, even louder and more uncontrolled than before.

The doctor smiled.

“Who says education can’t be an enjoyable experience?”

Rachel was getting rather breathless, but she managed to gasp out, “School was never like this.”

“I should think not,” the doctor replied, with every appearance of disapproval. “I mean, can you imagine a whole bunch of young people —”

“—And their teachers,” Michael interjected, and for the first time Rachel was aware than his hips were moving. He was rubbing his stiff, cloth-imprisoned penis against her naked bottom.

“Quite,” said the doctor. “Can you imagine a bunch of young people and their teachers all doing this kind of things to each other?”

The words seemed to push the image right into the middle of her mind. Just at the moment, Rachel could imagine it, could imagine it with graphical explicitness.

“I bet they’d like to,” she said.

“That’s probably true,” the doctor admitted. “A lot of people do seem find this kind of thing enjoyable. Even Rosie’s enjoying it now she’s let herself go. “You are enjoying it, aren’t you, Rosie?”

Her mother’s answer was a long way from being coherent, but Rachel was fairly confident that it was in the affirmative.

“And you think it’s nice too, don’t you, Rachel?”

“So nice,” she agreed. “So very, very nice.”

Without her conscious volition her legs were starting to move apart. Her hips were beginning to answer Michael’s thrusts. It was as if she was trying to get the entire surface of her bottom to experience the touch of his cock.

“And you know it can be even nicer don’t you? Would you like it to get even nicer? Do you need it to get ever nicer?”

Right that minute, it was difficult for Rachel to imagine how it could get any nicer. Michael’s hands were slowly and systematically caressing her swollen breasts, the tips of his fingers rubbing the tender aureoles and rolling around to grip and tantalise her nipples. But the doctor’ words fell into her mind like a promise. Her body responded to it. She was getting wetter and wetter, and the hard, insistent beat of pleasure was starting to throb relentlessly. In a minute, she thought, Michael was going to move his hand lower. Her was going to touch her cunt, her clitoris. He was going to push his fingers inside her. And when he did, she knew she was going to explode. She knew precisely what the doctor and his son were offering to do to her. She knew, and she wanted them to do it.

“Please,” she moaned, her voice almost lost amidst the other sounds of delight which were now being heard from all corners of the garden. Just a few yards away, Heather had got out of her knickers and was as naked as her co-worker. Her strong, slightly mannish hands were deep in the blonde top-knot of the younger girl, and Trudi’s face was equally deep in Heather’s muff. Trudi didn’t seem to find anything objectionable about the position she’d been put in. Her head was tilted to allow her mouth to obtain more complete contact with Heather’s lower lips. Those strong, insistent hands were adjusting the position and angle of her face. Trudi’s mouth was open, her tongue poking out like an agile little finger and it was rubbing swiftly back and forth over Heather’s open sex. Heather’s face was slack and almost stupid with pleasure. Harsh, forceful grunts were pushed out of her throat and her hips bucked and writhed, forcing her vulva ever more firmly into the face of the girl who was pleasuring her.

“Please,” groaned Rachel, who was now feeling so excited she could hardly even bear it.

“You see,” he said to Rosemary. “It’s just the way I knew it would be from the moment I first saw her. The little tart is gagging for it. You are, aren’t you, Rachel? The whole of your body is crying out for sex.”

“Yes,” Rachel admitted, acknowledging for the first time in her life the strength of her body’s demands.

“Unfortunately,” said the doctor. “It’s not as simple as that. You want pleasure. Of you do. It’s natural. It’s the most natural thing in the world. You want pleasure, but you can only have it if someone else gives it to you. And that’s only going to happen if you’re willing to do something in return. That’s the way the way things work in this class, I’m afraid. There’s nothing handed out for free. You can’t get what you want unless you earn it. Do you know what to do in order to earn what you want?”

“No,” she whispered, although it was not really true. She had a pretty good idea of what was expected of her. The solid rod of pressure pressing against her cheeks was a pretty powerful hint.

“Do you not?” said the doctor. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I bet your mother knows. You do know, don’t you Rosie?” He still had his hands on her mother’s breasts, playing with the dark brown nipples, scratching at them, tugging at them, squeezing them between his fingers and thumbs. But as he posed the question, his left hand abandoned her breast and trailed a down the jumping skin of her belly. Without either haste or hesitation, it dipped beneath the waistband of Rosemary’s panties and, to Rachel’s simultaneous consternation and jealousy began rubbing back and forth.

Rosemary gasped with pleasure and, for a moment her mouth and eyes were both as wide as marbles. “He’s got it inside her,” Rachel thought. “He’s got his hand inside her.” The doctor paused for a moment and said, “Why don’t you tell your daughter what she ought to be doing. Tell her what the man who is touching her wants her to do.” The shape of his hand was suddenly clearly visible stretching the thin moist fabric, and Rachel heard her mother moan.

“You have to suck his cock.”

Rachel could remember Rosemary using that tone to her literally thousands of times in her life: telling her to make the bed, to do the dishes, to hurry up with her homework. She had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined that she might one day her her giving the instruction which had just passed across her lips. She felt a giddying whirl of emotions as she thought about what she was being told to do. Up until a few minutes ago she had never ever seen an erect penis (although looking around the garden and seeing the number of men who were now hurrying to throw off their clothes and find some female to enjoy she had ample opportunities to make up for lost time). In spite of her excitement, the idea of opening her mouth and putting one of those inside it was not one she was quite sure was ready to deal with yet.

“I don’t...,” she said. “I don’t think...”

“You haven’t done this before have you?” said the doctor. “Don’t worry, ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of. It is something that can always be corrected. And we’re particularly lucky to have such an expert teacher on hand to show you how it’d done.”

For a moment, Rachel didn’t get what the doctor was talking about. Then she looked over at Trudi and Heather and immediately understood. Tony had evidently got as much enjoyment as he wanted from just watching and had moved on to a more participatory mode of engagement. All three of the young professionals were now lying down on the grass. Trudi still had her face buried in Heather’s sopping cunt, and judging by all the movement and moaning that was going on, Heather was probably finding that a pretty satisfactory situation. It was hard to be one hundred percent certain, though, because Heather’s face was in turn, pointed straight at her male associate’s groin. Her thick dark curls were tumbling down along the sides of her face, but Rachel could still see Tony’s glistening shaft as it slithered in and out of the eager open mouth.

The doctor followed her gaze and gently shook his head.

“No, not her,” he said. “I think she looks pretty good,” he added, with a tone of professional approval, “But I think we’ve got someone here who will be able to perform even better. Isn’t that right, Rosie? I’m betting your prim, prissy manners conceal a ravenous talent for fellatio. Am I right or am I right?”

“Of course you’re fucking right,” snapped Rosemary. The doctor was not surprised to see that a certain amount of eagerness had crept into Rosemary’s attitude. She had been observing what was being done to her daughter and to various other people in the garden with an increasing sense of jealousy and frustration. Now that she had been given permission to get a little action fro herself, she could not wait to seize it. She jumped to her feet as if the lounger had just become boiling hot, and had already pulled Michael’s T-shirt over his head before either the young man or his father had had a chance to protest.

“Not so fast, not so fast,” exclaimed the doctor.

“But I want it,” Rosemary insisted, transferring her attention to the belt of Michael’s trousers. She was trying to undo it with one hand while using the other to trace the size and stiffness of Michael’s erection.

“This is meant to be your daughter’s lesson. The two of you kneel down on the ground in front of my son.”

The grass beneath Rosemary’s knees was still slightly damp. It felt cool against her skin. By contrast there was enough heat coming off Rachel’s body that it was like kneeling next to an oven. There was a scent on the air which Rosemary had not smelled for a while but still had no difficulty in identifying: the smoky, slightly acrid fragrance of female arousal. It was obvious that Rachel was wildly turned-on by what was being done, both to her and around her.

“Hurry up!” Rosemary urged. Her mind might be blurred at the edges but there was one thing which she was in no doubt of: she wanted to see what Rachel would make of the next stage of her lesson. “He must be really uncomfortable by now. He wants you to get it out into the fresh air.”

She glanced up at Michael and his eyes met hers and answered with a smirk.

“Dirty bitch! You just want to look at my cock, don’t you? You want to see your innocent daughter handling my stiff cock.”

“Yes,” she whispered. It embarrassed her to admit it, but he had asked a question and she knew she had to answer, had to tell him the truth.

“Speak up,” said Michael. “I can’t quite hear what you’re saying.”

“Yes,” groaned Rosemary. “I want to see my daughter handling your cock. I want to see her sucking your cock.”

“You see,” said the doctor to Rachel. “Even your mother wants it. You have to go through with it now. You agreed to this lesson. You have to see it through to the end.”

Rachel extended a trembling hand and unfastened the buttons on Michael’s trousers. She tugged at the waistband and the denim slithered down, exposing a pair of white boxer shorts. The shape of his penis was clearly visible, huge and hard and straining at the fabric.

“Touch it,” Rosemary instructed. “Feel it with your fingers.”

Shyly and inexpertly at first, but then with growing enthusiasm, Trudi began to move her hands across the tented fabric. The cock which she was touching was as solid as a rubber truncheon, and it felt as if every one of her little, fluttering movements was contributing to her own excitement. It almost felt as if a ghost of her own hand was moving between her legs, stimulating her secret flesh in the same way that she was stimulating Michael.

All at once she discovered that it was not enough for her. Loathe though she was to relinquish her grip on the penis which she was touching with such pleasure she shifted her grip for just long enough to take hold of his boxers and pull them down. His cock sprung up into her face. Instinctively she pulled back. Immediately she felt her mother’s hands on her shoulders and at the back of her neck, steering her head back to where it had been before.

“Kiss it.”

“What?”

“Kiss it,” said Rosemary. “Lick it, Look, you do it like this.”

And before the doctor or Michael or anyone else could stop her, she tipped her head forward and ran her tongue all the way from the base of his shaft right up to the tip.

“You see...” she added as she repositioned her mouth and proceeded to repeat the operation. “You see... there’s really nothing... to it.”

Judging by the expression on Michael’s face and the way that his cock was starting to jump around under her mother’s ministrations, Rachel reckoned he was a long way from thinking that what she was doing to him was nothing. “It must be nice for him,” she thought. “With nothing to do except stand there and watch as two naked women vied for the right to lick and suck his penis.” For a moment, she was content to just kneel there and observe—this was meant to be a lesson after all—but suddenly a frightening thought struck her. Rosemary might take go too far. She might drive Michael over the edge, and Rachel could not stand the thought of that, could not bear the idea of all that glorious stiffness going to waste without her having the chance to get any benefit from it.

“My turn,” she demanded. “I want to have my turn.”

She stuck out her tongue and let it rest for a moment against the crinkled skin and the protuberant vein where the base of his shaft connected with his belly. His skin was warm and tasted slightly salty. She followed Rosemary’s example, letting her tongue glide silkily over his distended flesh, but when she reached his tip she decided she was not ready to relinquish the contact, so she adjusted the angle of her head and opened her mouth and let him slide past her lips and rest himself against her tongue.

“Christ,” she heard him groan. “Oh Christ that feels so good.”

She would have echoed him if it had not been for the fact that it was rude to talk with your mouth full. If it had felt good when she was just tracing his size with her fingers, it was as nothing compared with what she was getting now that he was using her mouth on him.

“He really is fucking her,” she heard the doctor say, although the sensations which were going through her mind were now so powerful that she hardly had any idea what the words meant. “It looks like he’s only using her mouth but one of the nice things about The Technique is the way it can re-wire the nervous system. Your daughter is already feeling his cock in her cunt. And looking around, I would be pretty damn confident that it won’t be the only thing that she’ll be feeling there today. In fact, I’d pretty well guarantee that before the afternoon she is going to be used again and again and...”

Rosemary gave a long, burbling moan of frustration and sunk her own fingers deep into her vagina.

“That excites you doesn’t it?” said the doctor, sounding a little breathless himself. “The thought of your daughter being taken, used, fucked...”

“Yes! Yes! It excites me,” Rosemary practically screamed. The truth of the matter was that just about everything seemed to be conspiring to excite her. Not half a dozen yards away from her Tony had got Heather on the floor and had spread her legs apart. He was thrusting into her with a speed and precision reminiscent of an industrial printing press. Heather was obviously enjoying this, and also obviously aware of her obligation to pay back favours which done to her: she had swapped roles with Trudi and the race was on to see which of the them was going to get where they wanted to be first. Nearer to hand, Rachel Michael were obviously heading for a pair of spectacular orgasms. Everywhere she looked, flesh was meeting flesh. Men and women were crying and groaning as their desires were copiously satisfied. In fact, it seemed to Rosemary that every single person in the garden was either getting it or had already had had it, apart from her.

“It excites me,” she said again. “It excites me and I want to have it. You’ve got to let me have it. Please, dear God, you’ve got to let me have it.”

The words, and the abject, pleading tone in which they were spoken was enough to send Michael over the edge. His pleasure was merely compounded by his memory of the snooty, imperious way this same woman had been talking to him not twenty minutes earlier. As he began to twitch and then to spurt compulsively into Rachel’s mouth he felt her fingers tightening their grip on his buttocks, pulling his hips forward so that he was spraying directly into her throat. Her body trembled and convulsed against his, and he knew that the sensations she was experiencing were every bit as intense as the ones that he was going through—or which were going through him.

Michael discovered that a tiny little bit of his attention was left over for his father and Rosemary. He had expected that the doctor would have refused her request, partly because it was his usual habit these days and partly because it would have increased the woman’s frustration. But to his surprise, Michael saw that his father was grinning and beginning to unfasten his own belt.

“Oh all right,” he replied. “Since you ask so nicely and since your daughter is doing such a good job of putting her new skills into practice, I suppose I can be obliging. Kneel on the ground like a dog and I’ll give you what you want.”

Rosemary did not hesitate, not even for a minute. Her inhibitions and every last vestige of her dignity had been thrown to the four winds. They had literally gone up in smoke.

A handful of yards away, Tony pulled his prick out of Heather.

“Put it back in me! Put it back in me!” she screamed.

He complied with her wishes, and obviously came the moment he had done so. The girls were more than happy to follow his example.

With a slight grunt of effort, the doctor lowered himself onto his knees, positioned himself between her thighs and proceeded to thrust as powerfully as he could into her sopping wetness. Rachel rolled over on the lawn, and had already started to ministrate to her new lover, licking at the base of his balls with delicate little motions. It was clear that she was determined to get a lot more practice than she had had so far and, from the gratifying way in which Michael’s cock was already starting to twitch and swell in response it seemed pretty well certain that she was going to get what she wanted.

Michael looked at his father and said, “I thought you said this afternoon wasn’t meant to be an excuse for orgiastic sex.”

“OK,” said the doctor, not missing so much as a stroke. “OK, so I made a mistake. No need to make a meal of it. Just take a few deep breaths and you’ll be ready to give your new plaything what she’s obviously gagging for.”

Michael did as instructed and the reaction he got was obvious and entirely satisfactory to everyone concerned. He rolled onto his back and grinned up at God as Rachel, with a little whimper of pleasure, proceeded to lower herself on to him.

Still fucking away as vigorously as before, the doctor just took the time to add, “You know what I always say: even if you get something wrong you should still do your best to enjoy what happens. Isn’t that right, Rosemary?”

“Yes,” said Rosemary. And then, much louder, “YES. Oh dear sweet Jesus yes.”