The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I left Women in Tech with more questions than I had answers…and with a renewed vigor for my freelance work. I put some of the energy that I’d been devoting into researching Flynn Pastor (now that I’d met him, his history of success was a lot less suspicious; the man was pure confidence, and it was easy to see how he attracted investors) and dove into the Vision documentation, watching through their extensive tutorials on how to increase your client base and income.

It was both thorough and accurate, and as soon as I began executing the tips, I found that I was booking more clients than I ever had before.

With Gaby working most evenings, I started booking gigs at night, too. I wasn’t making even a fraction of what she was earning, of course, but I was pulling in enough to justify getting takeout instead of cooking. When she got home, I’d reheat a meal and eat it with her.

We still weren’t having sex, but at least we were eating together.

One night, I was returning the dog to a new client. She was a Jack Russell Terrier, a beautiful creature, and her owner was the founder of a new startup that had just raised half a billion dollars.

I’d been told to just let her into the backyard and leave, but as I approached the house, I noticed something.

Gaby’s car.

At first, I’d assumed it was just…you know, the same make and model. Even in Silicon Valley, you see a lot of black Discoveries.

But then as I got closer, I saw that it had Texas license plates. I tried to tell myself that it could have been a coincidence, that perhaps there was another black SUV from Texas.

I tried to lie to myself, but even I didn’t believe me.

As I got to the house, my stomach sank. It was hers. Ours. The car that we’d bought together, the car that we’d driven across the country to start our new life.

My hands were shaking as I pulled out my phone and called Gaby. When she didn’t answer, I slowly slid the device back into my pocket.

As instructed, I released the dog back into the yard. But, in direct contravention to the agreement I’d signed when I started working with Vision, I didn’t turn around and leave the property.

Instead, I followed the terrier into the yard. There was a huge glass door, giving a clear view into the client’s living room. It was dark outside, so they couldn’t see me.

But I could see them.

I stood in shocked silence, staring at the sight in front of me. My client was laying on his couch, a huge grin on his face, as my girlfriend—my sweet, loving, obedient girlfriend—knelt between his legs, his cock in her mouth.

Gaby wasn’t naked. For some reason, I felt like it would have been better if she was naked. She was wearing a set of black lingerie, with a matching garter belt and stockings. I’d watched her put them on so many times to go to work.

Hell, I might have even seen her get dressed that morning.

She looked amazing. Gaby looked amazing in most anything, but this particular outfit…it emphasized her already busty chest, and contrasted beautifully against her pale skin. The underwear wasn’t a thong, but as she bobbed her head up and down the entrepreneur’s cock, so much of it had been eaten by her incredibly ass, it might as well have been.

I could barely breathe.

I watched, frozen, as my girlfriend bobbed up and down, sucking his dick. I wanted to scream, to run to the door and throw it open, to demand that she stop, to…to…

To do something.

Instead, Flynn Pastor’s words of just a few weeks earlier echoed through my head.

Don’t take it personally.

I didn’t take it personally as I watched my girlfriend suck off the man whose dog I’d just walked.

I didn’t take it personally as I watched him tap her head. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could tell by Gaby’s shudder that he’d just called her a pet name, or possibly just complimented her skills.

Women in Tech need to do what they can to get ahead, I reminded myself. Women in Tech need to satisfy their clients.

I didn’t take it personally as I watched my girlfriend undo her bra for the millionaire. Soon-to-be billionaire, if the rumors were correct. Gaby’s breasts fell into view; her nipples were hard, and her pink areolas were puffy. The tech mogul reached out and I watched her head roll back in pleasure as he clumsily man-handled her tits.

My girlfriend’s tits.

She was frantic, desperate to remove her panties. I didn’t take it personally as I watched my girlfriend, nude but for a garter belt and stockings, straddle another man and lean forward. Her hands gripped the couch as his fingers found her wet pussy.

I didn’t take it personally as, just a few moments later, I watched the man’s thick, stubby, uncut penis slide into my girlfriend’s cunt. As she moaned so loudly, I could hear it through the double glazing.

As, after just a few thrusts, he gave the word and I watched the extremely familiar sight of my girlfriend’s orgasm. As she came on another man’s dick.

I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that I shouldn’t take it personally, but I felt like I was going to explode.

I tried to make myself leave, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just stood there and watched, not taking it personally as a stranger fucked Gaby to orgasm after orgasm, her back arching in delight as she fucked him into the couch.

Her entire body trembled, and I knew that she was coming. This time, my client—her client—joined her; he gripped my girlfriend’s waist tightly, thrusting like a jackrabbit as he pumped his cum into her.

For Christ’s sake, he wasn’t even wearing a condom. How many times had Gaby come home and lay next to me, full of another man’s seed? How many times had she done this? Because was confident that this wasn’t the first time. That for weeks—possibly months—Gaby had been driving to strange men’s houses, fucking them to orgasm for money.

My girlfriend was a whore. Gaby, the woman I loved more than anyone, more than anything…was a whore.

I didn’t take it personally when my girlfriend knelt on the floor, her face in her lover’s lap, licking his cock clean. Licking their combined juices off his softening cock as she played with herself, cumming again once she was done. Once her mouth had done it work.

I just stared, unable to look away.

As Gaby rose to her feet, her hand still between her legs, her hair disheveled, her makeup smeared, she glanced at her watch. She has a smart watch—the same model as mine—so I knew that she’d have seen my missed call.

She ignored it, and reached out her other hand. Her client—my client—took it, and she led him out of the room. Up the stairs, to what I assumed was a bedroom.

Upstairs, to what I assumed was round two.

I stood there for far too long, staring at the well-lit room where I’d just watched my girlfriend cheat on me. Where I’d just seen the love of my life fuck another man, while I stood just a dozen feet away.

Finally, I left the back yard, returned to my car, and didn’t take it personally as I drove home.

It was days before I was able to think straight again. It got to the point where even Gaby—distracted and constantly-busy, attending ‘meetings’ each and every night—noticed that something was wrong. She asked me about it several times, but I kept telling her that I was fine.

I wasn’t fine.

I couldn’t think about anything else.. All I saw, every time I closed my eyes, was my girlfriend, servicing the stranger. The love of my life, being fucked by another man. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, being used as a common whore.

No, worse. A high-class whore. An expensive prostitute.

My Gaby was a call-girl.

The images ran through my head, day and night. I started having anxiety attacks. It wasn’t like this was something in the past—it was ongoing. Whenever Gaby wasn’t with me, I knew exactly where she was.

Getting fucked. Used.

Taken by the highest bidder.

I’d wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking. If Gaby was there, I’d crawl out of bed, trying not to wake her, and pace around our tiny apartment until dawn, unable to get back to sleep.

If she wasn’t there, that was worse. I couldn’t stop imagining it. Exactly what I knew she was doing in that moment: servicing another man. Being used like a sex toy.

Was our shared client the only man who used her? Or was she passed around from tech billionaire to tech billionaire, being taken by anyone who could afford her?

I pictured it constantly: Gaby bent over another man’s desk, her ass in the air, her legs spread wide. Or on the floor, her face pressed into the carpet, getting fucked in the ass.

Were her workmates in on it? Were they all using her? Was everyone in the fucking city fucking my love?

I had never met Michael, Sean, or Joey, but it was all too easy to picture Gaby going into work, kissing them, sucking off one or more of them while the others watched.

In all my jealousy, my misery, my utter consternation, only one thing helped: Flynn Pastor’s advice.

Don’t take it personally.

Gaby loved me. Of course she loved me. She hadn’t been lying about that, I knew it.

She wasn’t doing this to hurt me. She was just...it was just...

Women in Tech need to do whatever it takes to get ahead.

I couldn’t take it personally.

That was the thought that finally got me out, freed me from the cycle of paranoia and stress. It helped me stop feeling sick when Gaby went to work, stop waking up in the middle of the night, imagining that she was gone forever. I stopped obsessing over how many people she’d fucked, how many orgasms she’d given, and started dealing with reality.

I couldn’t take it personally. Taking it personally meant that I’d freeze, that I’d be incapable of action.

No, I needed a plan.

I needed backup.

“Jesus,” Steph said. “You look worse than you sounded on the phone.”

I cracked a watery smile. When I’d called Gaby’s twin...yeah, that had been a tricky conversation. I’d never met her before (she and my girlfriend didn’t get along) and all I’d ever heard about her were the worst parts. Her flakiness, her lack of ambition, her inability to be serious about anything.

“You’re not missing anything,” Gaby had told me, the first time I’d asked to meet her sister. I’d believed her.

But Steph was family. Gaby’s family. And I needed help.

So I’d made the strangest, hardest call of my life. I’d not gone into the details, just told Steph that her sister was in trouble, not to text her directly, and that I’d pay for the first flight we could find to San Jose.

“Your sister’s in trouble, but you can’t contact her directly. Please,” I’d said. “Please, trust me—her life depends on it.”

Steph’s reaction had been exactly what I’d expected, of course. It was exactly what anyone’s reaction would be to...well, to what sounded like a crazy man.

Disbelief. Confusion. Concern.

But she’d heard the pain in my voice, and she knew what Gaby meant to me. We didn’t know much about each other, but she knew that I loved her sister.

And so she came.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing her suitcases. “Come on. There’s a coffee shop near our place, I’ll explain anything there.”

“Is it one of those coffee shops that sells alcohol?” Steph asked, looking pointedly at my face. I knew I looked a mess; the huge bags under my eyes were still there, and my skin was splotchy.

“There’s a bar down the road,” I said, trying to remember if alcoholism was one of the many flaws Gaby had told me her twin had, before shrugging it off. Fuck it—if Steph was an alcoholic, that was the least of her problems.

And I needed a drink.

Four drinks later, I’d told Steph everything. I’m sure I sounded like a conspiracy theorist, but there was no way of telling the story without coming across as a loon, so I hadn’t left anything out.

Anything.

Steph now knew more about her sister’s sex life than any sibling should know, including the part about Gaby’s newfound breast sensitivity.

Including the part about Gaby sleeping with a stranger. The part about her being a call-girl. The part about me catching my own girlfriend cheating on me.

Steph listened intently, asking questions here and there. When I’d finished, she sat back in her chair and stared at me.

“Okay,” she said softly. “There are two options here.”

“Just two?”

“Firstly, you’re crazy.”

I tried not to cackle. “I feel crazy,” I admitted, rubbing my eyes. The room was spinning slightly, and I was more tired than I’d been since pulling two consecutive all-nighters in college..

”Or,” Steph continued, “you’re right. A tech company has turned my sister into a sex slave, and—by the sound of it—gotten to you too.”

“Oh, good,” I sighed. “Which do you think it is?”

Steph snorted. “Fucked if I know,” she frowned. “Either way, I can’t trust everything you’ve told me.”

I nodded. Bad idea. The room sped up.

“What’s the plan?” Steph said, and I closed my eyes. It helped.

“To stop them.”

“How?”

I swallowed hard. “That’s the part I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been sort of preoccupied. Since I, uh. Caught her. I mean, I know I shouldn’t...”

“...take it personally,” Steph said, and I opened my eyes again to see her frowning at me. “I know. You’ve said that, like, eight times. Why the fuck wouldn’t you take it personally?”

I blinked twice. Four beers normally didn’t hit me this hard, but I was so incredibly behind on sleep.

Still, even through the haze of alcohol and sleep-deprivation, it was obvious that Steph’s question didn’t make sense. Of course I shouldn’t take it personally. I couldn’t take it personally.

I knew I had to…to not take it personally.

I decided to change the topic.

“Can we go to the police?” I offered.

“With what? All you have evidence of is that my sister cheated on you. That doesn’t make a case, friendo. And even if we did prove that she was a whore, you know who gets arrested in that situation? Because I’ll tell you, it’s probably not Silicon Valley’s rich and elite. It’s probably the whore from Texas.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, and Steph smiled politely at my joke.

“Where am I going to stay?”

“Oh.”

Oh.

I hadn’t thought of that. I’d been so preoccupied with getting Gaby’s sister in town, that I hadn’t made plans for what to do when she got here. Other than, y’know…save the day.

Somehow.

“A hotel?” she asked, in response to my blank look.

“They’re expensive,” I replied, chewing on my lip. “I can cover it for a day or two, but...”

Steph waved me off.

“Well,” she sighed. “I’ll have to stay with you.”

I hadn’t told Gaby that her sister was coming. We had barely said more than a few dozen words to each other since...since I’d caught her. Since I’d caught Gaby fucking another man. Cumming on his cock. Cumming just at the pleasure of sucking him clean.

I shuddered. I couldn’t take it personally.

I hadn’t wanted to tell her until I was sure that Steph was going to come through. Until I at least had some idea of what I was going to do next.

Fortunately for me, Steph’s flakiness was actually useful. She had apparently visited her sister without warning before, so when Gaby came home late that night and found me pouring her sister another tea, my busty girlfriend had barely blinked an eye.

“Steph!” she exclaimed, dropping her bag and holding her hands out for a hug.

My girlfriend was wearing her usual work attire: short skirt, tight top, thigh-high boots. When she hugged her sister, I suddenly became aware of how similar the two women looked. Steph wore her hair up, and the two women carried themselves completely differently, but as their huge chests came into contact, I felt my cock stirring for the first time since...since discovering my girlfriend’s infidelity.

“What brings you to town?” Gaby asked, and Steph gave her a line about meeting a guy at a hotel who’d promised her an investment opportunity.

As Steph spoke, Gaby threw me a look—that kind of ”This is exactly what I was telling you about” glance that couples develop after being together long enough. I smiled back at her, praying to God that I didn’t look as suss as I felt.

Until I heard her talking to her sister, I hadn’t realized how much my girlfriend’s accent had started to fade over the few months that we’d been here. But the moment they started to catch up about old school friends, Gaby’s Texan drawl came back with a vengeance.

“Well,” Gaby finally yawned. “It’s getting late; we should hit the hay.”

“You want to take the morning off tomorrow and show me around?” Steph asked, and Gaby and I shared another look—this time, of confusion.

“Women in Tech should be team players,” my girlfriend told her sister, and I nodded.

“Women in Tech need discipline.”

“Women in Tech need discipline,” Gaby agreed, and Steph looked at the two of us as though we’d each grown an extra head.

“Women in Tech…need discipline,” she replied as though testing how the words felt on her tongue. The look of confusion softened as she continued. “Women in Tech should be team players.”

We smiled and nodded at her. “I’ll make up the guest room,” Gaby said, and I stifled a laugh.

‘Guest room’ was a bit of a stretch; she was going to pump up the air mattress in our tiny office. Like I said, we’d basically taken the first place we could afford.

As soon as we were alone, Steph grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the door.

“Oh my God,” she hissed. “What the fuck has happened to my sister?”

I furrowed my brow. Obviously Steph was seeing something that I wasn’t; Gaby had been so unsuspicious all evening, I’d actually been starting to worry that her sister wouldn’t believe me.

At the look of confusion on my face, Steph let out a long sigh. “Well,” she finally said. “I have good news for you.”

“What?”

“You’re not crazy. Or if you are, it’s contagious, and it’s spread to my sister as well.”

“But what did...—”

My sentence was interrupted by the sound of the air mattress pump starting.

“What did she do?” I asked. Steph’s eyebrows shot up.

“What did she...everything! The way she’s dressed, the way she smells, the way she talks about her work...”

“She’s always loved her job,” I protested, and Steph shot me a look.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “I know. She’s my sister. She’s always enjoyed the challenge of work, but it’s always been a job. Right now, she sounds like she’s...like she’s drunk the Kool-Aid.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “So it’s not just me.”

Steph shook her head. Her lip was between her teeth, like a small dog nervously chewing on a toy.

“She needs help,” Steph said flatly. “She needs us.”

I nodded. Before we could discuss things any further, the door to the office opened, and Gaby poked her head out.

“Almost done,” she said with a smile, coming in to stand beside me and squeeze my arm. “I’m so glad one of us was home when you came by.”

“Uh huh,” Steph said, forcing a grin to her face. “But I’m glad you’re working so hard. Women in Tech need…need to be team players.”

My girlfriend and I nodded.

“Maybe call ahead next time?” Gaby asked, a sting to her words. “Anyway, I’m wrecked. I’m gonna crash—honey, can you make sure my sister has everything she needs?”

“Of course, sugar tits,” I said, enjoying the moment of lust that crossed my girlfriend’s face...before remembering that she’d probably had that look on her face in the last few hours.

As she’d had someone else inside her.

The thought made me feel sick, but I knew I couldn’t take it personally.

And then Gaby left, closing the door behind her, and I was alone with my girlfriend’s twin.

“So…I have questions,” she said, and I sat down beside her on the couch.

“We have all night,” I shrugged. The effect of the beers from that afternoon had almost entirely left my system, and while I was still emotionally drained, having Steph here—having a friend in the fight—had given me a second wind. “Ask whatever you want to know.”

It was almost four in the morning before I slipped into bed beside Gaby. She didn’t stir, nor did she even turn towards me as I tried to wrest some—any!—of the bedding from her.

I lay awake for a long time, thinking. Thinking about what Steph had asked. About how much Gaby had changed.

About whether or not I’d ever get her back.

Her sister’s questions had been surprisingly sharp. I guess it made sense: Gaby was the single smartest person I’d ever met. Just because her twin hadn’t applied herself didn’t mean she was stupid.

She asked about Vision, about Flynn Pastor, about Women in Tech. I told her everything I could: about the meetings, the retreat, the app that my girlfriend had been working on. She didn’t write anything down, but the way that her eyes bore into mine...it reminded me of when Gaby was programming. She’d hyperfocus on whatever was in front of her, glare it into submission like a lioness might stare down a gazelle.

Steph wasn’t keeping notes, but I was confident that she was mentally capturing everything I told her.

Finally, she’d asked me some odd questions. She’d asked me how I felt about seeing Gaby cheat on me (I’d told her that I wasn’t taking it personally). She asked me about what my girlfriend wore to work (I’d told her Women in Tech needed to look their best), and she’d asked me how I got away with calling her sister ‘sugar tits’ without being slapped.

I’d told her the truth, of course: Women in Tech love pet names.

The questions themselves weren’t that odd; what really struck me was that she’d ask each of them two or three times, repeating my answers thoughtfully each time. By the end of it, she was mouthing along as I answered.

Like I said, odd.

When I woke up the next morning, Steph was already up (she was still on east coast time—she’d flown straight in from Philly) and of course Gaby was long gone. Women in Tech need discipline.

Steph was wearing a tank top and shorts, and I tried as hard as I could not to notice how similar her body was to my girlfriend’s.

“Okay,” she said, closing her laptop as I entered. “I’ve been doing some research, and I found much the same as you. There’s not much on Flynn Pastor, but I think he’s at the center of it. Slimy little bastard, isn’t he?”

I held up one hand. “I don’t think he’s involved,” I reminded her. I’d said it last night, but perhaps her memory wasn’t as reliable as I’d thought. “I did at first, but I met him. I think he’s on the level.”

Steph nodded slowly, as though humoring a small child. “All right,” she said, without even a hint of conviction in her voice. “So where should I look first? Women in Tech?”

I nodded, sitting opposite her at our small kitchen table. “It has to be, right?”

“Tell me again what the meeting you went to was like.”

I did my best to describe what I remembered, but unlike Gaby (and apparently Steph, I was learning) I don’t have the best memory for details, so I knew I was leaving a lot out.

As I described the conversation I’d had with the four women, Steph leaned forward, like a bloodhound who’d just caught its scent.

“Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues?” she asked, her eyes slightly glassy as she repeated the last thing I’d just said. “Nothing about that…strikes you as odd?”

Now it was my turn to shoot her a look.

“Of course not,” I said. “Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues.”

“Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues,” she repeated back, as though trying to commit it to memory. We went back and forth a few times before she blinked twice, and looked irritated. “Do you have pen and paper?”

I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the counter, passing them to her.

“Uh huh,” she said, scribbling furiously. “Tell me everything you know about Women in Tech.”

“Well,” I said, “they’re an organization who...—”

Steph held up one hand.

“No,” she interrupted. “Not the company. About...people like Gaby. About women who are in tech.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “Sure. I mean, Women in Tech should use every asset they have available.”

“Women in Tech...” Steph said slowly, writing it down. “...should use...every asset...have available. What else?”

“Women in Tech should be team players,” I replied. For over an hour, I ran through everything I could come up with about Women in Tech. That they needed to keep the people they work with happy. That they had to look their best. That they needed to give more than they received. That they had to be respectful.

Everything I listed, Steph dutifully repeated, then wrote down. And, just like the previous evening, not just once. By the time we were done, she’d filled several pages with her small, precise handwriting, listing everything I knew about Women in Tech, again and again.

Women in Tech should use every asset they have available.

Women in Tech should be team players.

Women in Tech need to keep the people they work with happy.

Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues.

Women in Tech need to look their best…

The list went on and on, dozens of maxims about Women in Tech that I knew to be true. By the time we were done, my head was swimming, and Steph looked a little dazed as well. I almost suggested we go out for another drink or something, but I had to get to work. I hadn’t been taking any new clients during the weeks I’d been a complete wreck, but I’d still been handling existing bookings.

“You’ll be okay?” I asked, as I started moving towards the door. “I mean, by yourself.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, staring at the list we’d made together. “I’m a big girl.”

I threw her a courtesy smile, but I don’t think she noticed. Instead, her lips were moving as she scanned down the pages of information about Women in Tech.

“Hey,” she called out, just as I was about to leave. “Question for you.”

“Hit me.”

“Women in Tech need to be competitive, right?”

“Women in Tech need to be competitive,” I repeated back. We were staring at each other across the room.

“And Women in Tech need to be respectful,” she said.

“Right,” I nodded. “Women in Tech need to be respectful.”

“Women in Tech need to be respectful,” she said thoughtfully. “Okay, one more.”

I had no idea what she was getting at, but I was just so grateful to have another pair of eyes on things, I wasn’t about to start doubting her methods.

“Women in Tech need to be meticulous,” she replied, and I wrinkled my nose in response.

“What?”

“It’s something I’ve heard.” Her voice was insistent, like she really wanted me to understand what she was saying...but I honestly didn’t. “Women in Tech need to be meticulous.”

“Uh, sure,” I said. I mean, it made sense.

“Do you think that’s true?”

“Uh huh,” I replied politely. “Sure.”

“Last one,” Steph said, and I refrained from telling her that her previous comment was supposed to be the last one.

“What’s up?”

“Women in Tech need to wear big hats,” Steph said, staring me in the eyes. She sounded so serious, and her eyes were so earnest...I couldn’t help myself, and burst out laughing.

“I haven’t heard that one,” I admitted, once my laughter died down.

“But is it true?”

I shook my head, not sure where she was going with this. “I mean. No? It doesn’t really make sense.”

“Okay,” Steph said, turning her eyes back to the pad of paper. “Just wanted to check.”

As I left the apartment, I couldn’t help but feel relieved. Steph was taking me seriously. I wasn’t a lone conspiracy theorist, trying to piece everything together by myself.

I had help.

When I got home, I was surprised to see my girlfriend’s car parked outside. It was the first time she hadn’t had a “late meeting” for...weeks, probably.

I tried to shake the image of what Gaby was doing in those ‘meetings’.

I knew not to take it personally.

“Hey honey,” I said. Gaby and Steph were sitting next to each other on our tiny couch, catching up.

When they sat next to each other like that, it was impossible to ignore the similarities between them. Of course, it helped that they both had their hair down...and were wearing outfits that did nothing to hide their matching curves.

At the nickname, Gaby shuddered in pleasure, reminding me just how long it had been since we’d slept together.

Which, in turn, reminded me how many people she’d probably slept with in the interim.

Not that I was taking it personally.

“Hey babe,” she replied, shooting me a smile. “I told the guys at work that my twin was in town, and they insisted I bring her to the Christmas party.”

“I thought it was a holiday party,” I joked. California was so PC about this kind of thing, it drove us both nuts.

“Of course,” she rolled her eyes. “The annual December non-denominational holiday party.”

Steph laughed a little too hard at that, and I noticed the open bottle of wine in front of them. Gaby’s not usually much of a drinker, but apparently she makes an exception when her sister’s in town.

Christmas wasn’t for a few weeks yet, but Vision gave their staff the second half of the month off. The holiday party was their last day together.

It was our last chance to get anything useful from her workplace.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, shooting Steph a smile. I had been dreading the party, to be honest—the men Gaby worked with sounded insufferable, so I was looking forward to having support.

Support, and a second set of eyes to see if we could work out what was happening.

“It gets better,” my girlfriend said, her drawl as thick as I’d heard it since leaving home. The alcohol had combined with the time with her sister. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her accent until hearing it.

I hadn’t realized how much I missed home.

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m going to get her a dress to match mine,” Gaby beamed, and my eyes widened.

She’d told me in the past how much she’d hated when their parents had dressed Steph and her alike. As if it hadn’t been bad enough being twins, wearing matching outfits had made her feel like her identity was completely taken away.

Now, suddenly, she was planning on doing it herself?

“That sounds...fun,” I said, cautiously. “What made you—”

I caught myself before completing the sentence, but it was too late.

“Women in Tech love to dress up,” Gaby said firmly, staring me in the eyes.

I nodded. Of course they did. I mean, women in general like dressing up—I don’t think that’s a sexist thing to say. Who doesn’t enjoy looking pretty?

But women in tech are surrounded by men wearing the most drab outfits. Not that I was in a position to throw stones; my wardrobe consisted of black, black, and more black.

Of course women in Gaby’s position wanted to take any opportunity they could to dress up, to break out of the drab uniform that programmers around the world wore every day.

“Women in Tech love to dress up,” Steph mirrored, an amused tone to her voice.

“Women in Tech love to dress up,” I said back, before blinking twice. “But...why is Steph going to match you?”

Gaby stood up, and walked towards me, slightly unsteadily. I wondered how much she’d had to drink.

“Women in Tech like to excite men,” she purred, putting her arms around my neck. “Women in Tech like to make men hard. Women in Tech will do whatever they can to turn men on, and get them off.”

As I was processing what she’d said to me, she leaned in and kissed me, her mouth rich with wine.

“Women in Tech like to make men hard,” she repeated, and I felt my cock stiffen under my pants. I wanted to think about what she was saying, really take it in, but I couldn’t. She was talking too fast, dropping such important knowledge. It was all I could do to keep up.

“Women in Tech like to get men off,” Gaby whispered into my ear.

My hands slid down her back, pulling her towards me. My fingers found the hem of her dress, and tugged downwards.

“Women in Tech love to get men off,” she continued, her breath hot against my neck. I looked at Steph, who was blushing furiously. From what I’d heard, Gaby’s sister wasn’t a prude, so I didn’t know why she looked so ashamed. Everything my girlfriend saying was absolutely true, of course. I’d known that before even gettin a chance to parse it.

Women in Tech like to get men hard—Gaby loved nothing more than turning me on, and getting me off. And, as I knew from watching her through the window the other night, I wasn’t the only one she enjoyed doing that to. Surrounded by horny men all day, it made total sense that women like my girlfriend enjoyed titillating them.

Turning them on. Making them hard.

Getting them off.

“Women in Tech love to get men off,” I echoed my girlfriend’s words, and my hands moved downwards again. My thumbs brushed against the crotch of her panties, and I watched as she shuddered, her arms wrapping around my shoulders.

“Women in Tech love to suck cocks,” Gaby said, before pressing herself tighter against my body. “Women in Tech love to swallow cum.”

Again, it was impossible to deny the truth of my girlfriend’s words. Lesbians are a minority of the programming community; for the most part, it’s straight women.

And what straight woman doesn’t love to suck cock? I knew my girlfriend did. She loved pleasuring me with her mouth.

She loved swallowing my cum.

Not just me, I was forced to remember. For weeks now—perhaps months—my girlfriend had been sucking off men all over the Valley. She loved to suck cock. She loved to swallow cum.

I couldn’t take it personally.

Steph was staring, watching the sight in front of her. She wasn’t saying a word, but I could see that she was breathing heavily. I turned my attention back to Gaby, whose lips were parting, her eyes wide with desire. “Women in Tech love to suck cocks,” I repeated back to her, and my girlfriend’s eyes lit up as she slithered down my body.

“Women in Tech love to swallow cum,” my girlfriend replied, falling to her knees in front of me. I didn’t even know how long it had been since we’d been intimate, but it felt like a lifetime.

Probably more, to Gaby. After all, I knew how much she loved to suck cocks. To get men hard.

I heard a gasp from the couch as my cock came into view, and I glanced over at Steph. She was still in the same position, watching me and her sister intently.

“Women in Tech like to make men hard,” she muttered. “Women in Tech love to get men off.”

I didn’t say anything, just smiled at her as Gaby’s lips wrapped around my shaft. I could feel her tongue lapping eagerly at the tip, then sliding down the length of my erection.

Gaby loved to suck cock. She loved to make men hard. She loved to get men off.

Including—but not exclusively—me.

My girlfriend’s lips closed around the base of my cock, and I gasped as pleasure coursed through my body. Gaby had always been good at this, but tonight she seemed particularly eager. She began sucking me deep into her throat intensely, swallowing as she did. I saw that one hand had moved between her legs, and she began rubbing her clit while she sucked me off.

Women in Tech love to suck cock.

I looked at Stephanie again, but this time, there was no shame or embarrassment on her face. There was just lust, plain and simple.

“Women in Tech love to be watched,” Steph muttered, and her sister’s eyes lit up in agreement.

“Women in Tech love to be watched,” I repeated back to her. She’d only here for less than twenty-four hours, and she’d already learned so much about how the town worked. She had such a sharp mind, like her sister.

I was sure that between us, we could get to the bottom of what was happening.

“Women in Tech love to swallow cum,” Steph said, watching her sister’s head bobbing up and down on my cock. I nodded in response. As my girlfriend sucked my cock, I felt guilty at how much of my attention was drawn to her sister, watching us from the couch. Her cleavage was almost spilling out of her low cut top. I knew that if she’d pulled it down, released her enormous bust from the top and bra, her nipples would have been hard.

Were they sensitive, like Gaby’s had become? Or was that another commonality between the sisters; was Steph just as uninterested in getting attention to her chest as her twin once had been?

Every outfit I’d seen Steph in drew attention to her chest. Perhaps that was why Gaby had once hated wearing anything revealing; she hated dressing like her sister.

“Women in Tech love to swallow cum,” I groaned, my orgasm approaching. I knew that soon, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. Steph was squirming on the couch, her hands gripping the cushions as she watched her sister blow me.

“Women in Tech love to swallow cum,” she said softly. I glanced down at my girlfriend, then back at Steph, again aware of how similar they looked. Both their eyes were hooded, their cheeks flushed. Steph was biting her lip, while Gaby’s were stretched obscenely around my cock.

“Women in Tech love to get men off,” I gasped, and I felt my balls tense. I could feel the warmth of my release rising inside me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“Women in Tech love to swallow cum,” Gaby said in a low moan as she pulled back, releasing my cock from her mouth. Her hand wrapped around my shaft, and she opened her mouth wide, inviting me to cum on her tongue.

I didn’t need to be asked twice, groaning as I unloaded into Gaby’s waiting mouth, feeling her tongue lap at my cock, capturing every drop. A look of pure bliss appeared on my girlfriend’s face as she swallowed it down, her eyes closing as she tasted my seed.

I collapsed on the couch, and Gaby climbed onto my lap, kissing me deeply. I wrapped my arms around her, and she giggled, nuzzling her face against my neck. For a moment, for one sweet moment, I was able to forget her infidelity, that she’d been fucking other men for months now.

Forget that she was cheating on me.

Forget that she’d slept with another man right in front of me.

All I could remember was that I loved her, and for a brief, glorious moment, everything was okay.

Biting her lip, Steph piped up. “Wow,” she said, and it all came flooding back. Why she was there. What Steph had done.

What I needed to do.

“Go clean up, baby,” I instructed my girlfriend, and she nodded, scurrying to obey my command.

Women in Tech love to obey.

As soon as I heard the shower start, I leaned in close to Steph.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “That was...that was pretty hot. I mean, I know I shouldn’t have...we shouldn’t...but...”

“Women in Tech love to be watched,” I nodded, trying to ignore the way my cock twitched at Steph’s soft moan.

“Women in Tech love to be watched,” she echoed back, her eyes slightly glazed.

“But I meant, like...with the Christmas party.”

That got her attention. “Oh,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I mean, yeah. I figure it’s the best way to learn what’s happening. Go into the belly of the beast, y’know?”

“Of course,” I nodded. “But...why’d you agree to dress the same?”

A smile appeared on her face. “We’re identical twins,” she reminded me. “When we dress the same, not even you will be able to tell us apart. And that means I can go anywhere she’s allowed to go.”

My eyebrows slowly raised as I realized what she was saying. It was the perfect disguise. She’d have access to anything Gaby had access to.

Maybe we’d finally be able to get to the bottom of this.