The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Vicky was walking home from school when a car stopped. Vicky was not in a good mood. Charlie was supposed to give her a ride home, but he had stupid football practice, again. So here she was, the top girl in her senior class, walking home. Walking!

She wished for the thousandth time that her mother would let her have a car. Either that or a more reliable boyfriend. It wasn’t fair. With all the guys at school hanging around her all the time, asking her out and doing her favours, one would think she could find one that could give her a ride.

She scowled at the man in the car. He was young, apparently a teenager like her. What was he doing in such a cool car? He looked like a geek. He rolled down the window. “Hi,” he said simply.

Vicky wasn’t about to give this fellow the time of day. She started to say something rude to brush him off. He lowered his eyebrows at her. He looked at her intently, the way she did when she was trying to do a math problem, so somebody would come and help her with it. Her vision blurred for a second. She shook her head. The fellow in the car looked like a nice guy.

“Hi,” Vicky said, smiling. She brushed back her long brown hair with one hand.

“You look like you’re heading home from school,” said the geek in the car.

“What about it.”

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

Vicky didn’t usually accept rides from strangers. This one looked like a nice guy. He was driving a Lexus. “Sure,” she said. She bounced across the street in her trendy white sneakers. She climbed into the passenger side of the expensive car. It smelled brand new.

“So, where are we going?” the fellow said, as he pulled back onto the street.

Vicky gave him the address. She looked him over covertly. Her assessment of geek had been right on the money. Skinny, bespectacled and intense, he looked like he belonged at a Star Trek convention. At least he was clean. Maybe this was his dad’s car.

She had already noticed him checking out her tits as she climbed into the car. That was hardly a surprise. The red cris-cross top she was wearing really showed off the twins. The foreshortened top complemented her hip-riding black stretch pants. Her sneakers were pure white.

Vicky was pretty much the “it” girl at Valleyview High, and she knew it. Blessed with a dynamite bod and an angelic face, Vicky was the girl all the guys adored and all the girls admired. Outfits like this one, coupled with an irresistible pout and a sweet-innocent persona, were the devices she used to keep her teachers wrapped around her little finger. No surprise geek-boy was checking her out.

“So like, do I know you?” she asked, to be polite. “Do you go to Valleyview?” Not that she would have noticed him if he did.

“Nope. Crestwood.”

Vicky almost snorted aloud. The guy went to Crestwood Technical School, the loser capital of the world. Pestwood, everybody called it; where they taught courses in auto repair. Vicky hoped nobody she knew saw her in a car with this nerd.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s OK. Turn right up here.”

They stopped at a traffic light. “What’s your name?” he asked bluntly.

“Vicky.” She didn’t bother to ask his name. Home was only a few blocks away.

He turned to grin at her. “You sure are pretty, Vicky.”

Oh gawd, talk about lame! “Sure, whatever,” Vicky replied. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her out or something equally clueless. “Look, it’s not far from here, maybe if you let me out at the corner . . .”

Her vision swam for a second. She looked over at the geek, who was staring at her intently. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He seemed like a nice guy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” she said more gently.

“Clifford.”

“Well, Clifford, I do appreciate the ride. If you turn left here, I’m just two blocks . . .” He was staring at her again. She felt momentarily warm. A change of plan occurred to her.

As the car turned onto her street she laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “Listen, Clifford, I just had an idea! I don’t really need to go home yet. Would you mind giving me a drive to the Downing Street Mall? It would only take a few minutes.” She gave him that beseeching look that generally made men say yes to anything she asked.

“Sure Vicky. No problem.” He swung the new car around awkwardly in somebody’s driveway and headed back toward the mall.

Vicky rewarded him with a smile. He was such a nice guy. “Thanks,” she said.

They made small talk as he drove them over to Downing Street. She learned that Clifford went to Crestwood because of a learning disability. There was something peculiar about the way his brain worked. Vicky didn’t pay much attention to the technical stuff. Clifford did seem pretty smart. He told her things had gotten a lot better since the doctors started him on this experimental drug thing. “I’m part of a test group,” he told her proudly.

It took only a few minutes to reach the mall, Vicky’s second home. She directed him toward the best entrance. She expected him to drop her off but he insisted on parking. “Well, thanks for the ride, Clifford,” Vicky said. “I’ll see you around.” She began to climb out of the car.

“Oh, that’s OK, I’ll come in with you,” Clifford said. “I can give you a ride home after.”

Vicky turned to say something in reply. The world faded out for a second. Clifford had that intense look on his face.

“Oh, that would be great!” Vicky blurted. She had a new idea. There was something she wanted to do for Clifford. He was such as nice guy.

When they got inside, Vicky took him by the hand. She practically dragged him to Cool Hot, one of her favourite shops. “Hang here a sec, OK? I’ll be right back, like minutes.”

“Sure Vicky,” Clifford said absently, “take your time.” He was already checking out one of the young salesclerks, a look of concentration in his eyes. Vicky made a face. Men! Well, she would cure his wandering eyes soon enough.

She advanced through the racks of trendy clothing till she found the skirts. She selected several short ones. She had plenty of minis in her closet at home, but she need one now. She grabbed a few other things to go with the skirts. She hurried into the change room.

In the end she couldn’t decide so she bought all three skirts. She decided to wear out the red one with the little pleats. It matched her top. It was also the shortest. She picked up a wide white belt and a pair of pink-lace anklesocks to set off her white athletic shoes. She checked herself out in the change-room mirror. Her tanned legs looked terrific. “You are pure teen-queen, baby,” she told herself. She didn’t usually go for the girly look, but this was for Clifford. She found herself warming in anticipation of his reaction.

He didn’t disappoint her. When she trotted out of the changing room with her other selections over one arm, Clifford was leaning on the front counter, chatting up the pretty clerk he had been eyeing earlier. She was writing something on a slip of paper. She handed it to Clifford with a shy smile.

“Hey Clifford,” the brown-haired beauty said, “What do you think?”

Clifford stuffed the paper in his pocket, looking a little guilty. Then he turned his attention to Vicky. His face took on that look of rapt admiration she got from guys in the hallways every day. He was memorizing her legs, which was fine by Vicky. She wanted him to know that she was hot. She bounced up on her toes for a second. “Well?” she prompted him.

Clifford eventually found his tongue. “It’s, it’s, uhm, wonderful!” he blurted. “You look great.”

“Put your tongue back in your head,” she said playfully. She turned to the sales clerk. “Ring these up for me please,” she said. She turned back to Clifford, laying a hand on his arm possessively. She felt him tense. “I’ll be like two minutes, ‘K? Wait for me?” She ushered him toward the door, eager to get him away from the competition. He turned back for a last gawk at her legs.

“Is that your boyfriend?” the clerk asked, when Clifford was gone.

Vicky was pawing through her purse, trying to find a charge card that wasn’t maxed out. “Uhm . . . well, yeah, like, I guess so,” she replied.

“He seems like a nice guy.” Her voice was wistful.

“Yeah, he is a nice guy,” Vicky replied, with more conviction than she expected. She paid for the new clothes, then hurried out after her geeky new friend. She forgot her pants in the change room.

Vicky gathered more stares and admiring looks as she trotted back to the car. Clifford was waiting for her with the passenger-side door open. How sweet. She hopped in, tossed her packages in the back, and pulled the door closed. “Thanks for waiting,” she said. Impulsively, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Clifford reddened instantly. He seemed very uncomfortable. “Uh, sure Vicky, no . . . no trouble,” he stammered. He put the car in gear and pulled away, still blushing. Vicky realized that he probably didn’t have much experience with girls. That was a pity: he was a really nice guy.

They headed back to Vicky’s house again. Vicky made small talk about her friends and school. She was surprised how easy it was to talk to Clifford. She felt comfortable with him, notwithstanding that he was the Mayor of Nerdsville and went to a totally loser school and probably had never been close enough to a girl to smell her perfume. He kept looking her over as he drove, and not very subtly. His eyes were switching from the swell of her tight jersey to the line where the hem of her mini met the curve of her thighs.

Finally she decided to tell him to keep his eyes in his head. She wasn’t some pin-up girl that he could drool over like he probably did to those girls in the magazines he hid under his bed. When she turned to say something to Clifford he was giving her that heavy-concentration look again.

The road became blurry for a moment. She lost her train of thought. It passed in a moment, and suddenly she didn’t mind at all that Clifford was admiring her curves. He was so serious. She crossed her knees, turning a little in the seat. That ought to lighten his mood. She admired the lace anklesocks she had purchased on the spur of the moment. She should wear pink more often, she decided.

They turned onto Vicky’s street again, in one of the most affluent subdivisions in this part of town. “Which one is yours?” Clifford asked.

“The second one from the end, with the green shutters. The driveway is on the far side.”

“Wow. Nice house!” Clifford apparently loved to state the obvious. He smiled at her, scanning her legs on the way by.

“Thanks. My Dad is away on business a lot, so it’s mostly just me and mom. I—”

She stopped in mid-sentence. Clifford was looking uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat. He had tried to adjust his pants while Vicky was talking, hoping she wouldn’t notice the obvious lump in his trousers. She almost laughed out loud. Clifford was getting an instant hard just from being in the same car with a pretty girl! How pathetic was that?

Vicky started to say something mocking his predicament. She pointed at his crotch with one delicate finger. No words came out. Her vision blurred, worse than before. She saw Clifford through the haze. He was concentrating intently.

It lasted only a moment. “You were about to say something?” he prompted, as he turned into her driveway.

Vicky felt bad. She had almost said something mean about his erection. That was cruel. He was such a nice guy. So he liked her bod; she should be flattered. She decided to be nicer to him.

“Yeah. I was gonna say you’ve been a teddy bear for giving me a ride and taking me to the mall.” She used her soft voice, the one she saved for hot guys. “So here’s a little something for you. Move your seat back. Yeah, all the way.”

When she had him in position she leaned over, smiling. She looked into his eyes while she gently lowered his zipper. Clifford gasped. She could tell instantly that no one had ever gone down on him. Well, she would make his first time one to remember. She knelt on her own seat with her legs tucked up under her and leaned far over. She worked his cock out into the daylight. Not bad, she decided, comparing him with other members she had known. He was very excited. Every touch seemed to elicit another gasp or moan. With deliberate slowness Vicky lowered her red lips and took him in.

Clifford drew in his breath. His back arched. Vicky began to blow him earnestly, bobbing her head up and down in time with the movement of her lips. Her perfect ass jutted upward, probably visible beneath her short skirt. Blowjobs were something she usually reserved for Charlie when he had been very good to her. Clifford deserved at least the same treatment for being such a nice guy.

He came almost immediately. Suddenly he was groaning and twitching above her and a load of hot jism was spurting into her mouth. She sucked it all down, staying with him until he was done. She gave his softening tool one long last lick and a little kiss on the head.

At last she sat up. Clifford was slumped in his seat. He looked like he had experienced a slice of heaven. “Did that do ya good?” Vicky asked, grinning.

“You’re amazing!” he declared.

Vicky rolled her eyes. Thirty seconds of head and the guy was ready to marry her. It was all too much. She shook her head. Her big silver earrings flashed. “I think you have a bad case of blue balls, Clifford. Maybe you should—oh no!”

A woman was advancing on them from the house next door. She was thirtyish, in a stylish, pea-green designer suit and heels. She was marching across the lawn toward Clifford’s car with a look of outrage on her face.

“Who’s that?” Clifford demanded. He was hastily buttoning his trousers.

“Mrs. Erskine. She’s a financial adviser or something. She must have seen us doing—you know. Ohgawd if she tells my mom I am grounded for life!”

“Vicky!” the woman roared when she was within earshot. “What is the matter with you? Get out of that car this instant you little fool. How dare you carry on like that in broad daylight!”

Vicky climbed out of the car into the face of the blonde woman’s fury. “Please, Mrs. Erskine, it’s not like that. I was . . . me and my friend were . . . uhm, we were . . . we . . . . Are you all right?”

Mrs. Erskine had stopped talking. She was blinking and shaking her head, like she was fending off a persistent insect. Vicky looked over her shoulder. Clifford had climbed out of the car too. He was glaring at Mrs. Erskine, brows lowered. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

Again it lasted only a moment. Mrs. Erskine looked about her. She smiled brightly. “That’s fine dear, I’m sure you were merely having fun. I was a teenager myself once you know.” She gave Vicky a sly wink. “Well now, don’t be coy. Introduce me to your cute friend.”

For a moment Vicky simply gaped at her. Her anger of a moment ago had disappeared like morning dew in the hot sun. Eventually Vicky said, “Oh, right. Uhm, this is Clifford. He gave me, like, a ride home from school and . . . stuff.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Clifford,” Mrs. Erskine said formally. “It was so thoughtful of you to give young Vicky a lift.”

Clifford came around the car and extended a hand. “Uh, hi. Uhm, sure, it was nothing. Mrs. Erskine, is it?”

She took his hand in hers. “Please, my friends call me Daisy. Mrs. Erskine makes me feel old.” She didn’t let go of his hand.

He grinned. “OK, uh, Daisy.”

“So, cute Clifford, will I be seeing more of you around here?” She fluffed up her hair with her other hand.

“Well, maybe.”

“Oh, I do hope so. Now that we’ve been introduced, don’t be a stranger. Drop by and see me when you’re here to visit Vicky.” She was still holding his hand. She used her fingers to gently stroke the back of his hand. “I’m all alone in this big house, with no one to keep me company.”

Vicky frowned. “We gotta get inside,” she said. She pried Clifford away from Mrs. Erskine, who winked at him. Pushy bitch. Clifford might be a skinny geek, but he was her skinny geek. She wasn’t about to let some rich wiggle in a push-up bra take him away from her.

“See ya later, Cliffy,” Daisy Erskine sang, as they walked away.

“Come on,” Vicky said. “We can like, hang out for a while if you want. My mom won’t be home for a while yet.” She found herself holding onto Clifford’s arm with both hands as she led him toward her house. This turned out to be a good thing, because Clifford stumbled badly on his way up the front steps.

“Ohmygawd!” Vicky cried, steadying him. “Are you like, OK?”

Clifford was looking haggard. He staggered up the steps. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. That last one took a lot out of me, you know. If I could maybe rest for a moment.”

“You can rest on the sofa,” Vicky said. She led him inside. She got him settled on the leather sofa in the living room. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Vicky ran to fetch him a glass of water. He drank it all down. After a few minutes he seemed to be feeling better. Vicky wondered if she should suck him off again.

Instead she sat down beside him. She curled one long leg under her. “Clifford,” she asked quietly, “what did you mean about something like, took a lot out of you?”

“Oh, that. Well, I told you I’ve been on this new therapy program, you know, for the learning disability. Involves these really cool pharmaceuticals that—”

“Pharma what?”

He frowned at her. “Drugs. At the hospital they did these like, scans on my brain and then gave me this drug treatment that is supposed to be sorta tailor-made for my specific brain chemistry.”

“Oh,” said Vicky. She wasn’t getting all of this.

He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that the drugs helped a lot—with the learning disability, sure, but with a bunch of other stuff too. The doctors said the drugs seemed to have stimulated a part of my brain I wasn’t using. That nobody uses. It’s way cool, but I’m still getting used to it. I have this like, new skill, but it tends to tire me out sometimes.”

“Poor Clifford. Do you want ‘nother glass of water?” She was about to suggest they could watch TV or something for a while. Just then she had one of those weird moments when her vision went all wobbly. She wasn’t surprised to see Clifford with an intense look on his face again. When the fuzziness passed, Vicky had a much better idea than watching television.

She snuggled up close to him, letting her chest rub his arm. “Hey,” she whispered. “My mom prob’ly won’t be home for ‘nother half hour at least. Wanna do something fun while we’re alone?”

He grinned a smug grin she was coming to love. “What did you have in mind?”

For answer she leaned forward and kissed him. She made it long and wet. She could feel him stiffen in her arms. When they separated a little she grinned impishly and reached down toward his belt buckle. He made to help her. She batted him away. With deft hands she opened his trousers. He was getting hard again. Vicky loved having that effect on guys.

She drew him out into the air. “Oh look, Cliffy has a stiffy,” she teased. She gave his rapidly swelling shaft a few affectionate strokes. Then she climbed to her feet to stand in front of him.

“Do you like my body, Clifford?” she asked. “Do you think I’m pretty?” Extending one sneaker-clad foot, she smoothed down her tight red top with both hands. He watched avidly. Her hands continued, smoothing the tiny red skirt close over her hips. “Go ahead,” she husked. “Stroke yourself. I want you to.”

Clifford did as he was instructed. He began to fondle his exposed cock with both hands. His eyes were glued to Vicky’s lithe form. His face was blank with desire.

Vicky looked him in the eye. She reached down with crossed arms, grabbed the bottom of her jersey and swiftly lifted it up and over her head. A moment later it drifted to the floor. Her brassiere was silky crimson and well filled.

“Getting better?” Vicky teased. She reached behind her back to unhook the straps. A moment later the bra dangled from one hand. Her tits were high, full and perky, the nipples erect. Clifford made an inarticulate sound. His hands were busy.

Vicky lifted one ankle and turned about gracefully. She smiled back at him over her shoulder. “Tell me, Clifford,” she sang, “Do you like my ass? Do you think I have nice legs?”

“Oh gawd yes!” cried her funny new friend. His threw off his glasses.

Still watching him over her shoulder, Vicky bent over from the waist, slowly and stiffly, until her deliciously bubbled bum was straining against the miniskirt, which was now riding at the edge of her asscheeks. She reached around with both hands, slipped them up under the little skirt and slowly hitched her panties down. She wiggled her hips as she went, first one way, then the other. The crimson underthings slid lower with each twitch.

From the sounds Clifford was making, Vicky began to worry that he might come before the festivities even began. This guy really needed to get laid. She turned around again and stepped forward, one leg on each side of his. He looked up at her, wordless and glassy-eyed.

“Tell me something,” Vicky teased. “Have you ever been with a girl before?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah, huh, sure. Couple of times.”

“Liar,” she accused, smiling. “Like who?”

“Well, (huh, huh) there was, uh, Tiffany, just, huh, few days ago.”

She stepped forward, hitching up her short skirt. “Who’s she?”

“Uhm, huh, next-door n-neighbour. She gave me her car.”

Vicky climbed onto the sofa, straddling him on her knees. She inched forward. She pulled his hands away and grabbed his member possessively. “Well whatever,” she said. “I’m way better than her anyway.” To prove her point she thrust her hips forward, aimed his rod carefully, then slowly enveloped his shaft with her pussy.

He was a good fit. She was wet and ready. She let herself sink down ever so slowly, until he was deeply embedded. Then she lifted up again, letting him almost slip out before she reversed for the downstroke again. Clifford made little sounds of shock and delight. His eyes rolled around in their sockets. Vicky was glad she could show him a good time. He was such a nice guy.

It was pretty obvious that he had very little experience with women. He put his arms around her bare waist to steady her. He moved clumsily beneath her, missing her rhythm, letting her do most of the work. Clifford was a nice guy, but not much of a lover. By the way his wang was twitching, Vicky figured he would fire off real soon and it would all be over.

“Come on Cliffy, stay with me a little longer,” she urged. She leaned forward, bringing her face down near his. She thrust her tanned hips back against the stiff rod filling her. Rich brown hair cascaded down both sides of her face. She caught one of Clifford’s frowns at close range. His face wobbled and blurred for a moment, and then—ohmygawd! Abruptly she found herself in the middle of the best fucking she had ever had. It was totally, awesomely fantastic!

Vicky gasped. She threw her head back as waves of exquisite pleasure surged over her. “Oh! Clifford, YES!” she cried wildly. She began bucking up and down on him, faster now, greedy for more. It was so GOOD. She grabbed his wrists and redirected his hands to her bobbing breasts. She pressed his palms against her stiff nipples. Her long brown hair billowed like the mane on a galloping horse as she enthusiastically thrust up and down. The sofa squeaked and rocked.

Clifford still wasn’t doing much work but Vicky didn’t mind. She wasn’t sure how much more of this mind-blowing excitement she could take. She began chanting his name over and over: “Yes, Clifford, Clifford, Clifford, more, more, yes, more Clifford, Clifford, More!”

She felt Clifford stiffen beneath her. His eyes closed. “Gawd Vicky, I don’t how long I—oh UHN!” he shouted suddenly. She felt him ejaculating inside her in a series of short jabs. Unexpectedly the extra stimulation triggered her own orgasm. “Oh fuck Clifford Clifford Clifforrrrd!” she cried out as the sweet sensations swept her away.

When it was all over they disengaged, panting from the exertion. The whole thing had taken only a few minutes. Vicky flopped over beside him on the sofa. She forgot about his glasses. She snuggled up next to him, still floating on the orgasm. “You were amazing, Clifford,” she whispered. She felt warm and contented. Clifford was such a nice guy.

She had barely finished that serene thought when they both heard a car pulling up. Vicky sat up like a startled deer. “Oh gawd, my mom!” she shouted. She began frantically gathering fallen clothes. She tossed the brassiere behind the sofa, then pulled the jersey back on over her bare breasts. Clifford picked up her panties and stuffed them in his pocket. He put his bent glasses on. He had just finished fastening his trousers when the door opened.

Anyone who met Vicky’s mom could see where her daughter got her good looks. The older woman wore her hair short and simple, instead of the long tresses her daughter favoured, but her face and figure were equally striking. She looked elegant and composed in a powder blue suit. The skirt was cut short to highlight her splendid legs, set off with glossy hose and blue pumps. She had a black satchel in one hand.

“Hi Mom,” Vicky said nervously.

“Hi dear,” her mother returned, setting down her briefcase. “Who’s car is that in—oh.” She noticed Clifford standing beside her. “Hello young man,” she said guardedly. “What brings you here?”

“Uhm, Mom, this is Clifford. He’s like, uhm . . . my boyfriend.”

“Is he now.” Her voice was wary. Perhaps she had heard that introduction before.

Clifford stepped toward her with an outstretched hand. “Uhm, hi, ma’am. I’m glad to meet you.” He seemed as nervous as Vicky.

She shook his hand briefly. “Is that your car in the drive then?”

“Yes ma’am. I gave Vicky a ride home.”

“Really.” She was clearly suspicious. Perhaps she didn’t expect a teenager to be driving the kind of car favoured by lawyers. She shot a glance at her daughter. Her visage turned to a thunderous scowl.

“Vicky! What are you wearing? Did you wear that get-up to school! Haven’t I told you enough times about those skirts! And . . . hey, what happened to your bra?”

“Uhm . . . I lost it. I mean . . . uh, I forgot to put it on. After like, cheerleader practice, see?”

“Oh, you forgot it did you. Well maybe being grounded for a week will help your memory. Look at you. You can see everything!”

Vicky looked at the floor. Grounded! All because she wanted to look nice for Clifford. It wasn’t fair. It was a good thing her mother hadn’t noticed she wore no panties.

Her mother turned her attention to Clifford. He was trying to adjust his glasses, which wouldn’t sit straight on his face. “Young man,” she said sternly, “thank you for giving Vicky a ride home. I rather doubt that is all you did. Now I think it is time for you to go.”

“Mom!” Vicky wailed.

“Be quiet, you! Clifford is going home, and you young lady are going to your room to put some underwear on.” She shot an angry glare at both teens and marched out of the room, unclipping her gold earrings as she went.

Vicky stepped over to Clifford. She took both his hands in hers. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My mom is sort of uptight.”

“I caught that.”

“She’s really protective cuz I’m like, her only daughter and my dad is away so much. Plus she always come home all tense from work.”

“I see.”

“So like, I guess you haveta go now. It was really nice.” She kissed him lightly. Clifford was such a nice guy.

“Still here?” came Vicky’s mother’s voice. “Would you like to try for two weeks, Vicky?” She was standing behind them, in her stocking feet now. Her shoes were in one hand.

Vicky whirled on her. “Mom, like I was only saying good-bye, OK?”

“Fine. Now you’ve said your good-byes, it’s time for . . .” She stopped suddenly. She squinted for a moment. Vicky caught a glimpse of Clifford concentrating hard.

“You OK Mom?” Vicky asked.

After that scowl, her mother’s smile was like the sun emerging from behind a storm cloud. “Of course dear. I was wondering if your young friend would like to stay to dinner.”

“Dinner! But Mom, you just said—”

“Why thank you,” Clifford interrupted. “Dinner would be wonderful ma’am.”

“Oh good. It will be a chance for us to get to know one another. But please, no more with the ma’am’s, all right? Call me Marina.” She smiled at him fondly.

Vicky frowned. “Mom—”

“Young lady I believe you were about to go get changed.” She wasn’t looking at her.

Vicky balled her fists in frustration. She stomped out of the room. Her mother hardly seemed to notice. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and keep me company while I cook something,” Marina said to Clifford. They disappeared into the kitchen together. Clifford appeared to be concentrating again. As she headed up the stairs to her own room, Vicky heard her mother say, “You know, I could really use a drink.”

Vicky trudged into her room in a huff. She closed the door hard. What was it about Clifford that made every girl he met want to take him away from Vicky? Even her own mother for crying out loud. Well, fine then, she would show her. Marina had told her to put on a bra. She didn’t say anything about what else she could wear.

Vicky shucked off all her clothes, then pranced over to her closet to find an outfit that Clifford would appreciate. He was such a nice guy. At length she decided on a low-riding, pleated denim miniskirt and a sparkling blue bra-top. The top revealed several acres of skin, yet lifted and separated her pert pair dramatically. The mini, on the other hand, hung so low that every time she bent over it would reveal the rhinestone butterfly on her thong, where the straps rode over her tailbone. She fastened a long gold chain about her waist to further draw attention to the wide expanse of bare flesh along her hips.

She considered her legs. She knew Clifford liked them. The hip-hanging mini was too low to permit ordinary pantihose. Instead, she decided on a pair of white, over-the-knee stockings with a delicate lacework up each side. They ended about mid-thigh, held up by a pair of glossy blue ribbons. She adjusted the sleek stockings carefully. Then she stepped into her best pair of red platform sandals.

She considered the result in the mirror. She looked hot! Clifford would approve, she was sure. She had worn something like this for her last geography test. Mr. Ferguson had hardly been able to take his eyes off her all period. Vicky was pretty sure her wardrobe was the main reason she was passing that course.

Vicky decided to go all out. She sat down at her dressing table and carefully applied her make-up, the way she did before a hot date with Charlie. Lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner only enhanced her natural beauty. She squirted a bit of perfume behind her ears and down her cleavage. She put on a pair of dangling gold earrings to match the slender gold chain around her waist.

The first thing Vicky heard as she descended the staircase, holding the handrail for guidance in her tricky high heels, was the sound of her mother’s laughter from the kitchen. Clifford had certainly turned her mood around. He was such a nice guy.

She knew she was in for a fight over her clothes. She was already grounded a week, so what did she have to lose? Still, she hoped the drink her mother had talked about had mellowed her a little.

What she saw when she entered the kitchen stopped her in her tracks.

Her mother was standing in front of the stove, cooking up a storm. She had a spatula in one hand, a highball glass in the other, and a laughing grin on her face. She wore a frilly white apron. Underneath the apron she was dressed in her underwear.

More specifically, Marina was wearing a flattering, peach-coloured lingerie set, consisting of a lace bra and panties and an elaborate garter belt. The belt was being put to good use holding up a pair of seamed dark stockings with wide bands of lace along the top. She had replaced her work shoes with a different pair, with higher heels.

Clifford was sitting at the kitchen table, a wide grin on his nerdy face. An open bottle of vodka sat on the table in front of him.

“Mom!” Vicky cried in shock. “What are you doing!”

Her mother turned to her, still grinning. “Why I’m cooking supper, dear, what does it look like. Clifford looks so hungry I think he deserves something good to eat.” Her voice was heavy with double meaning. She cast a sidelong glance at Clifford and giggled like a schoolgirl.

“But what happened to your clothes!”

“What do you mean?” She looked down at herself. She giggled again. “Oh, this. Well, I felt like dressing up. We have a guest, dear. Your father bought this nifty outfit for me years ago, and I’ve never had a chance to wear it. Clifford likes it, don’t you honey?” She turned toward him, extending one leg coquettishly. Vicky noticed she was wearing frilly white gloves.

“I already told you how hot you look, Marina,” Clifford replied. “You’re a total dish, for sure.”

“Oh, you’re just trying to butter me up,” Marina cooed, waving her spatula at him. “And it’s working. Oh, honey, I’m empty. Hit me again, OK?” She held her glass low in front of him. She bent over a little further than really necessary.

“Certainly, Marina,” Clifford said obligingly. He refilled her glass with straight vodka. He brazenly ogled her mature tits, spilling out of the lacy peach bra.

Immediately Marina lifted the glass and drank deeply. She swallowed, shaking her head. “Whoo-ee, that goes down well!” she declared. “Nothing like a few stiff drinkies after work.”

Vicky stood in the doorway, shocked and confused. Why was her mother acting so bizarrely? She had sent Vicky to her room over a missing bra. Yet now she was cooking dinner in a sexpot’s underthings and drinking like a fish.

“Mom,” Vicky said tentatively, “I think maybe . . .” She didn’t get any further because another one of those weird moments came over her. The room waved and wobbled, like heat haze rising from a desert highway. It passed in a moment, at the same time that Clifford stopped frowning at her.

“Yes dear?” her mother queried.

Vicky found herself grinning. “You look super-marvellous, Mummy-yummy!” she blurted. “Like, totally totally awesome!” She had never really thought about it before, but her mother was hot! In that super-cool underwear kit she was a double-delish dish. No wonder Clifford was staring. It was amazing how he seemed to bring out the best in everyone. He was such a nice guy.

Her mother giggled. “Why thank you, Vicky. So very sweet. You look good too, by the way.”

Vicky looked down at herself. She had forgotten her own attempt to please Clifford and annoy her mother. “Oh. Yeah. Well, uh, thanks Mom,” she said shyly. She contemplated stripping down to her underwear, to match her mother’s sexy look.

“Let’s go easy on the Mom bit this evening, ‘K darling? We’re just two girls with a cute house guest. Call me Marina. Clifford does, don’t you Cliffy?”

“Whatever you want,” the nerd of the house replied. He was still wearing that idiot grin. “It’s a lovely name for a lovely woman, Marina.”

Vicky watched her mother shudder a bit when Clifford said her name. Marina took another drink. “Why don’ you two go get comfor’ble in the dining room,” she said, “I’ll bring you dinner when it’s ready.” She hiccuped loudly.

“What’s come over my mom?” Vicky wondered, when they were out of earshot.

“I think she needed to relax a little,” Clifford replied. “God you look sexy. Where do you want to sit?”

Dinner was great fun. Marina was a good cook, even when she wasn’t entirely sober, and tonight she had gone all out. Clifford sat at the head of the table. Vicky moved her chair to be close beside him. Marina served them each dish, stumbling a bit in her high heels, but clearly enjoying playing the hostess. She served Clifford first. She leaned far over in front of him until her lovely boobs were a few inches above his plate. Then she turned and served Vicky, at the same time presenting her silk-covered derriere for Clifford’s enjoyment. She jumped and giggled when he playfully swatted her behind.

Eventually Marina threw off her apron and joined them. She was still in her sexy underwear. She sat on Clifford’s other side, across from Vicky. She slopped back vodka with great relish.

Vicky, for her part, was perfectly happy to see her mother get wasted. It would distract her from noticing what Clifford was up to under the table. Almost from the moment they sat down he had a hand on her leg. He was taking advantage of her short skirt and lack of pantyhose to tease her relentlessly. His fingers danced on the expanse of bare skin between the top of her hose and the hem of her mini. She batted him away whenever her mother stumbled into the room. The moment her back was turned his fingers were back.

Even when Marina sat down to join them, Clifford’s hand was still busy. She glared at him. He just smiled his nerdy smile and looked terribly pleased with himself. His fingers were slipping higher with every pass. Her mother was bound to notice. “Stop that!” Vicky cried out loud.

“Stop what honey?” Marina asked. “Is Cliffy hoggin’ the ravioli?” She stroked his shoulder. “You’ll share wit’ everybody, won’ ya darlin’?” She giggled, and had another drink. She left lipstick marks on the glass.

Vicky ignored her mother’s flirting. She shot a glare at Clifford———and caught him glaring in return. The world seemed to go out of focus for a few seconds. When it sharpened up, stopping was the last thing in the world she wanted Clifford to do.

She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of his hand on her bare thigh. Such a nice guy. “No mommy,” she sighed, “Clifford always gives me what I need.” Underneath the table she slipped a hand over his, urging him higher.

Clifford obliged. He continued to eat with one hand, accepting tidbits that Marina insisted on putting in his mouth, while his free hand explored Vicky’s luscious body. When he came to the edge of her little skirt, Vicky hitched her chair forward, giving him better access. Her turquoise thong was too small to be a real barrier. She moaned when his fingers discovered her moistening cunt.

“Ohmygawd that’s nice,” Vicky blurted. She thrust her hips forward a little.

“Iz delishous,” her mother agreed. She was slumped loosely in her chair, hair falling across her face. “Oopsh, spilled lil,” she slurred. She used one finger to pick a speck of sauce off the top of her left breast. She held out her finger to Clifford, who sucked it clean. His left hand was still busy beneath the table. Vicky groaned as he slipped a second finger in.

“Oh yes oh yes oh yes,” the shapely teen chanted, thrusting her hips off the chair. She had abandoned any pretense of eating dinner. Her mother was clearly too smashed to care. Marina poured herself another glass from the nearly empty bottle, spilling most of it. She giggled stupidly.

Vicky was panting, eyes half closed, cheeks flushed red. She spread her legs wide to accommodate Clifford’s clumsy strokes. His obvious lack of experience hardly seemed to matter. Vicky was in heaven. Clifford was the best; better than Charlie, better than the few other boys whom she had let into her pants. She felt her peak approaching. She gripped the edge of the table, muttered, “Yes, Clifford, Yes!” and let the orgasm sweep over her.

The climax was sweet, brief and intense. She was still floating downward as Clifford pulled his hand away, wet with her juices. He wiped his fingers on the edge of the table cloth. “Well now, Marina, that was a delicious meal. What’s for dessert?”

The svelte older woman in lace lingerie looked at him unsteadily. She was smiling foolishly. “D’ssert,” she said. “Yesh, deee-zzert”. She struggled to her feet, balancing precariously on the sexy high heels. One bra strap had fallen down. She had her bottle in one hand. “Deshrt,” she declared, arms spread wide, “ish me!” She pirouetted about, laughing, lost her balance and tumbled heavily into Clifford’s lap. She kissed him sloppily. “Fuck me, Cliffy baby,” she demanded. “Fuck me like y’r fuckin’ m’ daughter.”

“Mom!” Vicky cried. “What are you doing! You can’t . . .” Once again she felt the world flutter around her as she met Clifford’s intense look.

“Ooooh Cliffy, Marina really needs you to do her,” Vicky said, when her vision cleared. “That is sooooo fucking hot.” She could hardly contain her excitement. Why shouldn’t Clifford get to shag Marina? He was a nice guy. He deserved the best, and her mom was a fox. The very idea of Clifford’s manhood buried deep in her snatch was getting Vicky worked up all over again. “You don’t mind, do you Clifford?” she asked beseechingly.

“Well, if you insist,” Clifford replied. “Here, Marina baby, slide up on the table.” With some difficulty he got the inebriated beauty up onto the edge of the dinner table. She fell over backward, sprawling limply among dishes and silverware. She spread her long, stocking-dressed legs wide. Some dinnerware clattered to the floor.

“Hurry up ‘n’ shag me, shuper-stud,” Marina ordered.

The doorbell rang. Vicky groaned. Why did someone have to interrupt now, when Clifford was about to make her mom happy?

“Oh, I’ll get it,” Vicky volunteered with ill grace. Neither her mother nor Clifford even heard her. He was standing between Marina’s outstretched legs, unbuckling his pants. Reluctantly, Vicky turned her attention away from the debauchery in front of her. She wondered if she would look as ultra-sexy in stockings as her mom did. She made her way to the front door in her platform heels, carefully adjusting her own stockings as she went. She opened the door.

Daisy Erskine was standing on the front step. She looked like she was on her way to a party—or maybe on the way back from one. She had changed into a yellow dress. It was sleeveless, shape-defining, and quite short. Her legs were decked out in strawberry red, fishnet stockings coupled with red, platform ankleboots. A dozen red and yellow bracelets decorated her left wrist. “Hi Vicky!” she said brightly.

“Uhm, hi Mrs. Erskine,” Vicky said. “What’s going on?” She wasn’t at all sure this was the time to be entertaining the neighbours. There were coital noises coming from the other room.

The blonde on the doorstep looked almost shy. “Vicky, I was wondering, is your young friend—Clifford—is he still here? Could I, perhaps, come in to say hello?”

Vicky found herself considering it from Clifford’s point of view. Mrs. Erskine had nice legs. Clifford would approve. That made her feel warm inside. “Uhm, well, I guess so. Sure. Come on in.” She closed the door behind her neighbour.

“Clifford’s in the dining room,” Vicky said, leading the way. “He’s sorta doing my mom.”

“He’s WHAT! What did you say?” They reached the entrance to the dining room. Daisy Erskine stopped and stared at the tableau before her. Her jaw dropped. Despite her obvious attraction to Clifford, this was not what she was expecting.

Vicky’s attractive, respectable mother was spread-eagled on the oak table, beneath the crystal chandelier, thrashing and moaning in the ruins of an elaborate dinner. Her pretty panties were hanging off one ankle. Clifford was standing between her legs, pants around his feet, hands around her thighs, thrusting his teenage cock into the older woman’s wet pussy for all he was worth. Marina was too drunk to do anything but hump her hips and make slurred, barely intelligible pleas for more cock. She was squeezing and fondling her breasts with white-gloved hands.

“Almost there, baby,” Clifford shouted, “almost there!” He glanced over and noticed Daisy staring back in astonishment.

The other woman shook herself out of her initial shock. She took a step into the room. She raised one hand, making her bangles clatter. She opened her mouth to shout something—and felt the full blast of Clifford’s furled brow.

Vicky knew what Daisy was feeling because she was feeling it too. The room blurred and danced around her. She staggered, almost fell off her platforms, and shuddered in exquisite sexual pleasure. She heard a sharp cry of delight from Daisy. A moment later the pretty blonde stumbled into her arms, half falling as Clifford’s talent hit her. Through foggy vision Vicky saw Clifford twitching between her mother’s thighs. She realized dimly that Clifford was cuming, and doing his magic at the same time. Even her mother was climaxing. She shrieked loud enough to wake the neighbours. She arched her back upward off the table.

Vicky’s vision cleared in a few seconds. It took longer for the sweet orgasmic sensations thrumming through her to subside. She still had her arms around Daisy. The other woman felt warm and womanly.

“Mmmmmmmm,” Daisy murmured. “Wasn’t . . . that . . . something. He sure did fuck her, didn’t he.” She didn’t seem upset at all. Her voice was slow and thick.

“Yeah. He did her good.” Spontaneously, she kissed Daisy’s cheek.

They staggered into the room, arm in arm. “Do you think he’ll fuck me now?” Daisy whispered. Her lips were close to Vicky’s ear. Her tongue tickled her.

Vicky giggled. She turned her head to face the blonde woman. Daisy was at least ten years older than her. “I bet he will. He’s a really nice guy.” They shared a kiss on the lips.

Daisy said: “Let’s go ask him.”

Unwilling to let go of each other, the pair advanced to the table. Daisy kicked aside a broken plate. “How are you, Marina, honey?” she asked Vicky’s mom.

Marina didn’t answer. She was still sprawled across the table, eyes closed, breathing evenly. She had passed out, either from too much booze or great sex or both.

Vicky giggled again. “Mom’s been kinda in a party mood tonight,” she explained. “Oh, look at poor Clifford.”

Her new boyfriend was asleep too. He was flopped in his chair with his head thrown back. His pants and underthings were still around his ankles. He had that goofy, geeky smile on his face that Vicky adored.

Daisy said, “Oh, I guess Marina tuckered him out. Poor boy.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll come back. He does this thing with his head that tires him out. He needs to rest for a while.”

“Do you think he’ll fuck me when he wakes up? Ever since we met it’s all I can think about.”

“Course he will.” Vicky kissed her neck and cheek, nuzzled in her hair.

Daisy turned to the teen beauty queen in her arms. “You know Vicky baby, you have blossomed into a gorgeous little treat.” Her breath was hot on Vicky’s face. Their bodies pressed together.

“Mrs Erskine, you have the nicest titties,” Vicky whispered.

“Call me Daisy.”

The next kiss was long and wet. Hands began to roam across clothing, then underneath. They stumbled interlocked toward the sofa. By the time they got there Daisy’s tight minidress was rucked up over her hips, revealing the tops of her gaudy mesh stockings and yellow lace panties. Vicky gasped when Daisy discovered her tiny turquoise thong

“Do you suppose,” Daisy wondered, as they struggled to remove clothing as quickly as possible, “that Clifford will mind—oh yes, baby, touch me there!—that Clifford will mind if we, (kiss, smack), occupy ourselves (lick, kiss, kiss) for a while? While he sleeps?”

“Hmmm? Oh! No, I . . . (moan) . . . like he totally won’t mind. Mmmmm, such yummy titties (kiss, suckle, lick). ‘Fact, he’ll like, totally fuck you when he wakes up.”

“He’s such a nice guy.”