The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Women in Heat, Part 1

Summary: mind control, Mf, some ff, incest

Ever get the feeling that there’s something wrong in the world, that something’s just not right? Ken Niceman too. But Ken found these little $4.00 pills that fix all that. Sort of.

Author’s Rambling: Well, sometimes the sequel comes out before the original <grin>. I guess the tale “A Comfortable Old Pair of Genes” will become a prequel to this tale some day. I’ve included the first (introductory) chapter of that story here to hopefully give a tiny bit of background for the “mechanism” of this story—for those that are interested. Please note that I am not quite as sexually bigoted as the “hero” in this excerpt—Richard’s attitudes later play into Pair of Genes’ plotline.

Women in Heat, Part 1

Disasters happen, I guess.

Catastrophes ... occur.

This one was born as four things came together, just so. If any one of them had been missing, or had been off just slightly, we would not have had ... well, this awful mess.

First, my son’s girlfriend has a great rack—I’m talking the stuff that legends are made of. Every night in my prayers, right after the part about my children having lives better off than I had, I pray that He sends my son a sweet little wife with a pair of jugs like that to come home to each evening.

Her breasts alone are proof that God is male.

Second, my wife has kept herself in great shape these years that we’ve been married, but ... God, she’s become a bitch. Until I got her pregnant, she let me think that I ruled the house. At the point of first conception, we dispensed with any such illusions. While the kids were growing up, we had sex maybe once a month. Now that our daughter has left to attend the same college as our son, my wife does not even demean herself that often.

I now demean myself in the bathroom with fantasies and my own right hand.

Third, my daughter went off to college last fall, and I guess I’m just starting to feel my age now. I never thought of myself as getting older those years that my kids were growing up, but it seems that didn’t keep it from happening.

Where did my years go? I’ve been robbed.

The final ingredient was the dirty magazine I bought at the gas station when I filled up on the way home, feeling sorry for myself for reasons cited above. I might need to put up with a cold wordless night between my wife and me. I might have to endure the assault on my ego that whacking off to a dirty magazine was the only way I could get sex anymore. I might have to find someplace to hide from my wife while I beat off. But this was still a free country, where a man could still slink down to the storage area in the basement to secretly masturbate to pictures in a magazine he surreptitiously bought and smuggled into his own home.

And, God willing, we’ll never lose that right in this great country of ours.

More specifically, the fourth ingredient was the advertisement about two-thirds of the way through the magazine. It claimed that all animals go into heat. Except humans. That’s because one woman mutated 70,000 years ago and we’re all descended from her. Descended from that frigid sexual deviant, it claimed. And this product—this Ignition tablet—compensated for that unnatural mutation and set things right again, putting your dinner date, or your wife, or your secretary, or the gal next door back into heat. Like God meant her to be.


My mind drifted to when Alfreda, our collie, went into heat. Man, that dog rutted and slutted around like you would not believe! She just couldn’t help herself.

I imagined—just for argument’s sake—what it would be like if my wife Deborah were as horny as that dog was. Getting my thigh all slicked up as she rutted her pussy back and forth on it, straddling my leg, begging ME for sex.

I, uhm, started to get hard again. After ejaculating not two minutes ago. I guess that tells you how much I still wanted to make love to my wife.

I sighed. Yeah, right. Nothing could ... turn such a cold bitch into a mewling pussy. That was just silly.

The advertisement said that one pill kicked in after thirty minutes and lasted six hours, during which time, she would gladly do ANYTHING you commanded her to.

Okay. Cool fantasy, but. Enough wasting time dreaming of the impossible. I pulled up my pants, zipped and headed back upstairs.

“Did you pick up the French bread like I asked you?” she called when she saw me walk by.

Shit! “Uhm, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Dammit, Kenneth! I work all day too. And I cook and clean as well, for the simple fact that your cooking is inedible and you ruin the clothes. Now, when I ask you to do one simple, basic thing, you can’t even get THAT right!”

“Well,” I shook my head in disgust, “I guess I could always pull all my clothes back on and drive all the way back into town and get the bread, though that would use more gas than the cost of the bread. I’ve already changed clothes, but I guess if it’s that important to you—”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Kenneth.” She stared, daring me to try to back out of it.

With a twenty-second sigh to stress how much trouble this was for me, I trudged back to the bedroom to change. Didn’t people respect empty offers anymore?! The way they grease the world and help it go around?! You NEVER take someone up on an empty offer. That’s just declaring that you DON’T WANT to get along.


I opened the magazine and glanced at the article again.

“God, Kenneth!” Lustful, needful stare from my wife. “FUCK the bread! But FUCK ME too! I NEED you, baby!” Yeah, right. Still, it was nice to imagine. Only $40.00 for one bottle of ten pills.

You’d think that they could throw in 40 or 80 pills. That would make the product sell better.

Unless, of course, the pills cost too much for that.

But, then, placebos should not cost $4.00 a pill.

Unless ... they weren’t placebos.

Nah. No way.

I changed clothes and headed back into town.

* * *

“Hi, I’m back!” I called when I got back. “I got the bread.”

While I was unpacking the bread and the beer from the grocery bag, Deborah walked out into the kitchen without a word, then slapped my dirty magazine down on the table. “What the HELL is THIS?!”

Well, it’s a dirty magazine, Debbie. Did you learn anything from it? If not, then you need to go study it until you have the poses and techniques down pat.

Yeah, right. Actually what I said was, “Uhm ... ehr ... ah, I—... you see ....”

“Kenneth! It’s PORNOGRAPHY! Filth! Did YOU bring that into this house?!”

I deftly took advantage of the opportunity: “No! I brought a loaf of bread into this house! Maybe it’s Bobby’s!”

She considered that. “Hmmph! Well, it had BETTER not be! I will get to the bottom of this when he visits this Thursday, and either you or he is going to have some explaining to do!”

“Perhaps I should talk to him instead, dear. Sort of man-to-man so that—”

“No, if he’s done something like this, he can stand up to the consequences himself!” She shook the magazine at me. “And if it was YOU—”

I frowned and shook my head. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t you worry, dear!”

She spun around and strode off with the contraband.

Hopefully, she was still out of fingerprint-dusting powder.

I sighed. That left me with only the page that the advertisement was on, that I had torn out earlier—just in case I might want to order some of that “Ignition.”

Not that I ever would ....

“God!” my wife danced across my mind in sexy lingerie, “I am SO sorry for being such a tightass bitch earlier! Please, if you’ll just let me suck you off, I can show you how contrite I am.”

“A man’s got a right to bring a dirty magazine into his house every now and then if he wants to,” I imagined myself informing her.

“Oh! Of course! I’m not arguing that! But it means that I’M not doing MY job! If I WERE, you wouldn’t have any stamina LEFT to consider other women!”

I thought about that a second. “You’re right! This IS all your fault!” I mentally told her.

“Please!” she breathed, “Let me make it up to you!” She slid to her knees and unzipped me.

Yeah, right.

Still, a $4.00 pill HAS to do something, doesn’t it? Or they’d throw in 70 more pills and make a lot more in sales.

Okay, so I was 99% certain that the advertisement was bogus. But ... if it WERE real—just, if it WERE—then you couldn’t live with yourself if you missed a chance to fix everything for only $4.00.

Now could you?

And ... for $40 ... even if they WERE just sugar pills—well, there’d be no harm done.

And if they weren’t ....

If they really DID ... do ... something ....

“Honey? You know what we should do?” my mouth spoke before I realized it was going to.

She sighed as she strode back into the kitchen to get her knife and cutting board to cut the bread. “What are you looking to buy for yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you think ‘we ought to do’ something, it means that you want to buy something for yourself and slip it past me.”

“No, not at all, honey.” Innocent look.

“Well, out with it.” She started cutting. That raised the stakes a little: she was holding a weapon, so this had better be good.

“We ought to take a nice family trip to the lake property next weekend.” She looked up at me, trying to figure my angle on this. Ha, let her try. “I don’t know. We only see Bobby and his girlfriend when they stop by on Thursday nights, and we haven’t seen Gina even that frequently since she left for college. Maybe we can take the weekend and just spend some good, quality family time together.” Good word there: “family”.

She studied me, trying to figure out my angle. But I was the epitome of innocent sincerity. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” I smiled.

“Yesss ...,” she said tentatively, not ready yet to let go that I might be up to something.

“It will be just the four of us. And Bobby’s girlfriend if he wants to bring her.”

She sliced—almost chopped, really—another piece of bread. “They’ll be in separate rooms if they do!”

“Oh, of course,” I nodded, extraordinarily easy to get along with. Just like all innocent chaps are.

“And I’m still going to find out who brought that dirty magazine into my home!” Slice-chop.

“Of course, dear, and we’ll punish the culprit as soon as he admits it. I hope that this doesn’t mean that he and Rosalyn are having relationship difficulties.” See? “Relationship”—that’s a “woman from venus” word. But when you’re trying to convince a woman, you need to use it. To convey sincerity.

“Maybe it WILL be nice. Gina will be going through the experiences of her first year at a university and she and I haven’t had time to catch up lately.”

“And a girl needs her mother, both to share her feelings with and also for the wisdom that she can impart.” Oops, too far.

She pointed the tip of the knife at me. “I still think you’re up to something, Kenneth. But I’m going to take you up on this offer. And it WILL be a wonderful weekend, and we WILL all have a good time!”

“That’s what I was hoping for, dear.” I was impenetrably guiltless, because I had nothing to hide. Other than the advertisement in my pocket, of course. Pure, distilled guiltlessness.

“Well ... go out to the garage and bring in the garlic press.”

“Yes, dear.”

I figured I would leave it up to fate. I would mail off the order tomorrow. If the pills came before the trip, it would be God’s little way of saying, “I believe in you, Kenneth. Go for it, man.”

I found the garlic press and headed back inside. Sincere. Confident. Impenetrable.

And unknowingly careening toward disaster.

* * *

“I can’t believe that we were this fortunate, that your dad set up this weekend!” Rosalyn leaned her head on Bobby’s shoulder as he drove up the road.

“Mom set up the weekend. Dad will just be doing what he’s told.”

“Still, it couldn’t BE better timing.” She held up her left hand—the one with the ring on it—and spread her fingers.

“You’ll need to take that off. Just until I break the news to them.”

She reached out with her right hand and played with the ring. “O...kay. But we’re going to tell them this weekend, right?”

“I’ve NEVER been able to keep our love a secret. And now that we’ve formalized it—well, I won’t be able to keep that a secret either.”

“Ooh, you’re so sweet!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I am going to be ‘Mrs Robert Niceman’!”

He looked at her. “I love you.”

“I love you too!”

* * *

“Yeah,” Gina sighed to her roommate as she packed her suitcase, “Family weekend at the lake property.”

“I think it’s kind of quaint.”

“Karen, I left home because I WANTED to get away. My Mom is—you can only spend so much time with her and then ... rrgh!” She folded a blouse and set it in the suitcase. No point in putting TOO much effort into avoiding the clothes wrinkling—there wasn’t going to be anybody she was trying to impress this weekend.

“You could ask Jack to go along.”

“No, I couldn’t. I haven’t told my family yet that I have a boyfriend.”

“Just show up with him at the door,” Karen grinned, “and say, Mom, Dad, this is Jack.”

“Yeah, and just how much fun do you think the weekend will be when we’re visiting my Mom in the hospital after her heart attack?”

“A little controlling?”

“Mom? Naw. I’d just need to apply for a boyfriend permit six months in advance of the first date, she’d review his credentials, and ten minutes later, my application would be moot since there is no way that Jack would be considered worthy of being Mrs Deborah Niceman’s daughter’s boyfriend.”

“I don’t know. Jack’s a nice boy. Most mothers would think he’d be a good catch.”

“You don’t know my Mom.”

“Well, if things get too sour this weekend, give me a call, and I’ll drive up and bring you back.”

Gina looked at her friend. “Thanks, Karen. I appreciate that. Now if Dad will only do something stupid and get Mom pissed at him for the weekend, she might stay off my back.”

“Better take your vibrator, just in case,” Karen grinned.

“My—” Gina involuntarily swallowed, startled, “—what?!”

“You think I don’t know about little Beaver Cleaver?” Karen smiled. “C’mon, Gina—anytime you have a major exam the next day or someone does something shitty to you, you curl up under the covers and have a de-stressing session with the Beave.”


“Yeah, you play the stereo to cover the buzz, but the frame of your bed touches the radiator by the window, so I can still hear the eager little fella humming.”


“Gina, I’m not judging or anything. Everybody needs some way to blow off stress. My point is that your mom sounds like a major stress inducer. And you’re not going to have Jack this weekend to do a stress work-out with. So ... take a suitable replacement.”

Gina stared at her, glowing embarrassed red, for a few moments, then broke out in a grin. “Geez! Psych majors! You think you have the inside story on all the rest of us!” She pulled her vibrator out of her underwear drawer and threw it in the suitcase.

* * *

“Robert!” Deborah greeted her son when she opened the door. “Come in! It’s wonderful to see you!”

“It’s good to see you again too, Mom.”

“Hi,” Mrs Niceman.

“Why, hello, Rosalyn. Come in.”

“We should probably bring in the luggage. Before it gets too late.”

“Surely. Kenneth! Come help Robert with the luggage!”

“It’s okay, Mom. I can get it.”

“I’ve set up the guest room for Rosalyn to stay in tonight. And we have the extra room at the lake cabin, so everything should work out for a perfect weekend!”

I came up about then. I hadn’t made out any words in the screeching, but there had been screeching, and that meant that I had done something wrong, or that I needed to do something and would do it wrong, to Deborah’s annoyance and contempt.

“Hi, Rosalyn,” I gave a little wave as I passed. My son had found himself a mammary goddess!

“Hi, Mr Niceman,” she giggled.

“Kenneth, get OUT there and HELP your son! And QUIT trying to avoid work!”

“Yes, ma’am.” I headed out and helped Bobby carry in the bags.

We carried them into the guest room and separated out Rosalyn’s things.

“And YOUR bags will go up in YOUR room, Robert. Come along you two.”

“Bye,” Rosalyn whispered and gave a gentle wave to Bobby.

“I love you,” Bobby mouthed.

“I love you too,” she mouthed back.

Then he and I hurried to catch the remaining luggage up with Deborah.

“And you’ll stay in here, Robert, and if you need anything, you just call me. You know how even the slightest footstep wakes me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hadn’t been planning on any middle-of-the-night trysts with Rosalyn. Because even the slightest footstep DID waken his mother.

“You get changed into something comfortable, then come join us in the kitchen. We’re still waiting for your sister. I can’t imagine what’s keeping her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Come along, Kenneth.”

It was 11:30 when Gina pulled in the driveway. She said she’d had to fight traffic the whole way and was exhausted and wanted to just go to sleep.

Rosalyn had been briefed about Deborah’s uncanny hearing, so there were no midnight traipses for my wife to pounce upon, and the night was peaceful.

We all arose at 6:00 the next morning and were on the road by 7:00. It’s a two hour drive, so we pulled off the little dirt road at the cabin by 9:00. After Bobby and I carried all the suitcases in, Deborah decided everyone looked sleepy and sent me up to the gas station at the other end of the dirt road to pick up five coffees while everyone else unpacked.

* * *

Well, to satisfy your curiosity: it turns out that the pills did come in time for the trip. Not that I expected them to actually work or anything ....

No, I’d slip one to my wife. Or two. And maybe one or two to my son’s mammary queen just on the extraordinarily long shot that they might turn the ladies on a little. Maybe get my son a little action and maybe myself a quick flash of those marvelous mounds.

And, of course, in the freakish event that they did arouse my wife and son’s girlfriend, I would need to have slipped two to my daughter as well so that she would be too distracted to notice the other two ladies acting slutty.

Again, not that any of this had a chance in hell of coming about. They were just expensive sugar pills and I was just a foolish dreamer, but at least I was only out $40.00.

That’s how I came to slip two pills in each lady’s coffee Saturday morning as I was driving the cardboard tray of beverages back to the cabin, ready to blame “that damn gas station and its coffee pot” if the pills were not as odorless and tasteless as advertised.

Everyone downed their beverages as we sat outside, enjoying the early morning air.

“Well,” I clapped my hands with a smile finally, “why don’t we just take a leisurely walk around the lake this morning?” That should take a little over 45 minutes, and there were enough bushes along the path for my son and me to duck off to the side with our women and for my daughter to ... well, to be with herself.

“Oh, that sounds WONDERFUL!” Rosalyn clapped her hands and bounced, sending scrumptious ripples through that mammarific flesh.

Yep, sometimes my execution of plans was just too smoo—

“No, I think I’m starting to get a headache,” my wife said, “and once you’ve walked that path a half dozen times, you notice the mosquitoes more than the lakescape. But you four go on ahead.”

“In that case, I’M going!” my daughter raised her hand a little too enthusiastically.

“Well, maybe the three kids should go by themselves—” I started to salvage a plan beginning to buck awry.

“I think,” my son spoke over me, communicating something with his eyes to Rosalyn, “I’m going to stay at the cabin with Mom. But you three go ahead.”

“Uh ... maybe I should stay here,” I added. My son would miss a good boffing and boob sucking opportunity, and I would need to figure out how to get my wife and son in opposite areas of the cabin, but at least it might salvage some of this. Under the extraordinarily unlikely chance that the pills were more than sugar, of course.

“Oh, come on, Daddy,” Gina told me. “It’s a good opportunity to get out of the stuffiness in the cabin”—I knew she was talking about my wife, though if the pills worked at all, she wouldn’t be stuffy, she’d be stuffed with cock—“and Rosalyn has never seen the lake.”

“Yes, Mr Niceman. Come take me on a tour of the lake. I’ll bet you know fascinating facts about the fish in it and the animals around it, and Bobby can stay here. And talk to his mother. About things.” She communicated something back to Bobby with her eyes—but how was I to know he had asked her to marry him?

“Go ahead, Kenneth,” my wife sighed. “It will get you out of my hair for a while. And Bobby will be here in case any bears come or anything, for goodness sake.”

“Ehr ...,” I admitted to myself that the pills really WEREN’T likely to have ANY effect and decided to just spend some time with my daughter and with ... well, the young lady whose breasts I would have climbed the highest mountain for if I were twenty years younger, “... okay.”

The girls changed into hiking boots to protect their legs from the brambles, along with denim shorts and haltertops. I had to explain the whimper that squeaked out my mouth when I saw Rosalyn’s treasures in all their halter-covered glory as a small burp from this morning’s haphazard breakfast.

Bobby seemed anxious for us to leave and ushered us out.

“C’mon, Daddy,” Gina said as we started off, “let’s go show Rosalyn a few things.”

She meant the scenery about the lake, not the disastrous consequences about to descend upon us. How were we to know the changes that would soon impact our very worlds?

* * *

Deborah fixed herself and her son a cup of tea, then she and Bobby sat at the table outside again, to enjoy the spring air a little more while they talked. This would be good, she thought. It had been five or six weeks since she had caught up on events and details about his classes and college life, and a lot can go awry in that time.

God knew that Bobby was far too naive with people. He wouldn’t have survived this far in life without her help.

“No,” she interrupted him. “You can ask that professor questions, but don’t do that unless it’s something he’ll know the answer to.”

“But if I was going to understand how that process works, I needed to know—”

“Bobby, this professor you’ve described is very defensive and protective of his knowledge. If you ask him something he doesn’t know the answer to, he will take it as you mocking him in front of the class, and he’ll hold a grudge against you for it.”

“But Professor Archwell never minded when I asked intelligent questions.”

“Professor Archwell wasn’t as limited in what he knew as this man, so he didn’t have to defend it as much.”


She steered the conversation away from his professors then—they weren’t going to change that much in the last six weeks—and to the friends he was keeping. That was the type of thing that could break an otherwise excellent performance at college—friends that are bad influences. Especially during college, when kids get rebellious.

* * *

The first thirty or forty minutes, the girls and I just leisurely strolled around the lake, and I pointed out some of the plants and animals. Also, I stole a few glimpses of those glorious mounds in the skimpiest top I’d seen them in.

“Daddy, uhm ... I’m going to head back toward the cabin. To, uhm, check. On something,” my daughter fidgeted.

Even though Rosalyn’s haltertop was providing some panoramic views of her twin peaks, and Gina’s absence would cut in half the number of witnesses that might catch me being touristy ... I couldn’t do it. Encounters with bears were extremely rare, but not entirely unheard of here at the lake, and I didn’t want my daughter wandering around alone, just in case. One of these days I would get around to cleaning the morals out of my attic, but as of today, there were still cluttering up the place.

“No, honey. There are occasionally wild animals in this area, and I don’t want you to risk a run-in. Let’s stay together.”

“But, Daddy! I gotta go CHECK ... something!” She fidgeted.

“What do you have to check on?”

“Just ... something.”

I shook my head. “No. I told you to stay here.”

Gina got a funny look on her face, sort of an expression of stunned admiration and puppy-love eyes, then stammered. “Y-yes, sir.”

I turned back around to the lake just in time to catch a large water ripple and decided to tease Rosalyn., “Hey! Did you see that one, Rosalyn? I’ll bet it’s Big Sam, the bass rumored to have once devoured a small child!”

The girl was breathing a little hard beside me. “Uhm ... sir? I, ehr ... was distracted.”

“There it goes again!” I pointed.

She shook her head from a long distance away, like she was just sitting up in bed after a deep night’s sleep. “I’m ... sorry. I was, uhm ....”

“Distracted,” I finished for her.

“Yeeeaaaaah,” she sighed.

I heard my daughter rustling some bushes and looked around. “Gina! Get back here! I told you not to wander off!”

Again, the funny look on her face. “Uhm ... yes ... sir.” She stumbled back over beside me.

“C’mon, Rosalyn. I’ll show you a little pool up ahead where the fish always come in the early evening. You could just walk out there and pick them out with your hands when that—”

“Mr Niceman,” she breathed, “I need to, uhm ... sit down ... for a little while.”

“Okay,” I shrugged, and we took a few steps back from the water. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah ... sort of ....”

“I gotta—” Gina blurted, “I gotta go to the bathroom. I’m gonna step behind that bush. You stay right here, Daddy. Don’t you dare come peek!” She dashed off.

That girl seemed determined to run off.

“Yeah ... me too, Mr Niceman. I’m gonna,” Rosalyn stepped toward another bush, holding onto things to keep her balance, “I’m gonna ... step behind here. You stay ... over there.”

“Sure,” I shrugged. Whatever. I sat down on a tree root to wait out the female bodily functions.

Very soon, little gasping noises started coming from behind Gina’s bush.

“Gina? Are you doing okay over there, honey? You’re not—”

“DON’T! Don’t come over here, Daddy! I’m—I’m fine!”

I shrugged. As long as she was all right.

A few moments later, Rosalyn started making whimpering sounds from behind HER bush too.

“Rosalyn?” Maybe it was the beans last night, affecting the two girls.

“No! ... I’m okay! ... Just stay! ... Stay right there! ... Mr ... Mr ...! Mr NIC—Oh! OH! OHGOD!”

“Oh! ... SWEET! ... JESUS!” my daughter suddenly started gasping from behind HER bush.

“Ladies, are you both—”

“Oh, YES!”


“I’m fine! I’m—I’m—OHGOOOODD!”

“Ohgod, yes, Daddy! YES! I’m okay! I’m OOOKAAAAAAYYYY!”


“Oh, yeah ... oh, yeah ...,” Gina’s voice eased back down.

“Ohgod, yeah ... I’m okay ... too ... Mr Niceman ... ooooohhhhh ... yeeeaaahhhh.”

“You stay there, Daddy ... I’ll be ... over in just a ... moment ....”

“Oh, yeah ... oh ... yeah, I’m doing REAL all right, Mr Niceman ... I’ll be ... there momentarily ....”

Whatever. I looked at my watch. It was the fifty-minute mark, and these girls weren’t showing any symptoms of heat. Indigestion, maybe, but no heat. So that ‘Ignition’ obviously didn’t work. No hurry to get back to protect my son from an embarrassing and awkward situation. With his mother.

Ah, so I blew forty bucks. You win some, you lose some. Live and learn.

* * *

“Uhm, sorry, Daddy,” Gina giggled nervously as she stepped over to rejoin me.

Rosalyn joined us a couple moments later, her cheeks flushed.

“Well,” I stuck my thumbs in my belt and shook my head, “I’ll bet YOU TWO feel better!”

Both of them dropped their eyes. Gina gave another nervous giggle.

“I know, I know. No bowel jokes. But next time, you two young ladies need to make a stop by the bathroom BEFORE we set out for a hike.”

“I, uhm, ...,” Rosalyn laid her palm across her lower belly, “This is weird, but I might need to, uhm ... do that again in a couple minutes.” She quickly stole a glance at me, then at Gina, then back down to the ground.

“Uh, yeah! Actually, I might need to, uhm, take another privacy break—”

I looked at my daughter.

“Ohgod,” she whimpered, “too!” Her eyes dropped, but only half-way.

“Well, you ladies must have eaten something that really upset—”

Why were Gina’s eyes lingering on my ... fly ... ?

Oh, shit! I hoped that I hadn’t leaked enough pre-cum during my covert visual tour of Rosalyn’s delightful mounds to cause a stain on my pants! That would be REALLY embarrassing! “Uhm, ladies,” I stammered, taking a step away, “I think I might need to, uhm, step behind a tree for a moment myself.” And make sure there was no wet spot!

“No!” Rosalyn spoke up uncharacteristically forcefully. I spun around to face her, and her eyes dropped to my crotch too, and lingered with a stare there.

Shit! I MUST have an awful stain, the way her eyes got large. “Yeah, I, uh ... have to step behind a tree for just a moment. Take a wiz. Be right b—”

“I COULD—” Rosalyn blurted again, eager and hesitant at the same time, “hold it for you.”


She just blinked at me hopefully.

There was no way I could have understood that correctly. “Uhm, hold ... what exactly, Rosalyn?”

“Your ... penis ... Mr Niceman.” Hopeful smile. “While you ... pee. And ... for a minute or two afterwards ....”

Now I whimpered. For just a moment, visions of myself holding on to her boobs for dear pleasure while she held my peter dashed across my mind.

This was just going to make my stain that much bigger, I thought. “Ehr, no .. I REALLY have to duck behind a tree for a moment.” With that, I made a quick exit.

But ... there was no stain on the front of my pants! At least not yet! So why were those two girls staring at my crotch?! Were they trying to play some joke on me or something?!

Well, I had a moment of privacy, so I went ahead and reached down into my pants to reposition my erection to a little more comfortable position.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Gah!” I tried to get my hand out of my pants, but it got hung up under my belt until I wrestled it free. “Uhm, what is it, sweetie?” I asked as I turned to face her. Hopefully she wouldn’t think her father was some pervert, self-groping out here in the woods.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to startle you. But I can make it up to you—what would you like for me to do to make it up? Anything you want,” she breathed. “Anything at all. Just ask.”

My daughter ran her tongue around her lips.

“Oh, nothing, sweetie. I just didn’t expect you to come up behind Daddy like that. While he was ... peeing. That’s all.”

“Are you sure? There’s ... nothing ...,” she stepped a little closer to me, “I could do—”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Let’s just get back to our hiking, I guess.”

“Yeah, sure, Daddy,” she sighed, voice disappointed as I stepped back around the bushes to rejoin Rosalyn.

* * *

“Are you ready to—” I started to ask Rosalyn.

She gave a little shriek and sat back up from where she was hunched over on a tree root, her hands flying into view from wherever they had been.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no. Heh, heh. That’s fine.” Her cheeks were really flushed.

I shook my head. She sure was acting high-strung, startling like that. Of course, I guess I was too, jumping when my daughter came up behind me while I was peeing. Or supposed to be peeing. Or ... whatever. “Rosalyn, if you need to pee some more, we can wait while—”

“No, no, I’m fine, Mr Niceman.”

“You sure? I—” My eyes widened as my daughter wandered back into the clearing—minus her denim shorts! “Gina! What happened to—”

She blinked. “What happened to what, Daddy?”

“Your shorts! You’re—You’re—”

She smiled. “I’m what, Daddy?”

“You’re all leggy and—and—What happened?!”

“Oh, they just came off somewhere back in the woods there,” she gestured absent-mindedly.

“Well, let’s go find them!”

“Oh, I’m fine, Daddy. Besides, it’s a little bit cooler like this.”

“I’LL say! You’re all—! And don’t you know—you never wear a thong to go hiking!”

“Oh, really?” She smiled a little and stuck her thumbs in her waistband. “Guess I should take it off, then, hungh?”

“NO!” my voice cracked as she started to slide them off.“No! You HAVE to leave those on! And we HAVE to go back and find your shorts!”

She was breathing a little hard. “Yeah ...,” she sighed and seemed to space a couple moments while gazing at me, then blinked a little. “But—I—don’t know where—so I’ll just—I can just hike in this, Daddy. Why don’t I walk in front of you. So that you can make sure that this ...,” she stretched her thong’s waistband with her thumbs, “doesn’t come off. And leave me all ... naked.” Smile.

“No! We HAVE to get your legs and your—your—your crotch covered! We just need—”

My eyes were caught by Rosalyn then, who stepped back into view, and ... good ... GOD! The way those gazabos were jitterbugging, they ... had been ... set free beneath that haltertop!

“Hi, Mr Niceman!” she skipped up in front of me and beamed.

“R-Rosalyn, your, uhm ... your bra ....”

“Oh,” she flicked a hand, “it must have come off somewhere back there or something.” She gestured with one hand toward the region she had come from, causing fascinating ripples to move through her breasts ....

“Mr Niceman,” she giggled. “My eyes are up HERE,” she bounced perkily with that last word, making ... more ripples ... dance across ....

She watched my hypnotized eyes for a few moments with a smile.

“But you—you can’t ...,” I gestured toward her breast-al region.

“I can’t WHAT?” her voice bounced high in pitch on that last word as she rocked perkily on her toes, causing those luscious things to reverberate some more ....

“No ...,” I shook my head. “No, you need to go find your bra, and you—” I turned around to face my daughter and ... she was sitting on a fallen log with her ... HAND DOWN HER THONG!

“NO! You CAN’T DO that!” I yelled at her. “Get your hand out of your—”

My daughter’s eyes slid shut as she whimpered.

That’s when it finally hit me ... they were both in heat.

The little $4.00 pills HAD worked.

And these two young ladies were ... horny out of their little minds ....

I turned back around to Rosalyn. She was cupping her own love pillows through her haltertop. Whimpering.

I turned back to my daughter. Her hand was still down her thong as her breath was coming in shorter, squeaky gasps.

“Gina! CUT that OUT!”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy! Come—come MAKE me stop!” she gasped. “I’m your—I’m your—”

“Gina!” I marched over, grabbed her wrist and pulled the furiously moving hand out of her underwear. “Now!”

“Yes!” she screamed. “Yes, Daddy! I’m YOURS! I’m your BITCH!” She shivered, then started reaching for my crotch.

“No! No you’re not!” I tried to dance back from her.

But she came after me.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop!” I whined. But she kept grabbing and I kept hopping back. If she kept this up, I was going to—


As I stepped back, I tripped over my son’s girlfriend’s ankle. She was busy massaging her own mammaries, which seemed to have somehow worked free of that silly confining haltertop.

The two vixens in heat pounced upon me with squeals of delight.

My daughter got her hand at my crotch, cupped my genitals through my pants once, then arched her back and—

—yeah, I know this is my daughter we’re talking about here, but I’m just reporting the facts—

—she came in great screaming gasps like she was giving birth to a sixteen pound orgasm.

While I was stunned by the force of her climax, Rosalyn grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands to her precious boobs, then covered my hands with hers and cupped for all that she was worth. After a single good squeeze, her back arched, her breasts pushed forward toward me, and she wailed in orgasm too.

I ... felt sorry for her and went ahead and squeezed her tits through the rest of her climax. And slightly beyond. So that she wouldn’t hurt herself by being interrupted mid—’gasm. What can I say? I’m a compassionate man.