The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

WET AND COUNTRY CLUBBING

The lunch invitation surprised Vicky. It’d been a busy week so far and the morning had been spent studying for next week’s finals at the kitchen table with a big pot of coffee on the stove and all the notebooks spread out in front of her when the phone rang.

Gail intimidated Vicky a little, she not only had a good four inches and a dozen and a half years on her, but she was wealthy, beautiful, confident and lived in a different world than the hard-working socially limited one that the orphan girl had experienced.

They hadn’t interacted very much, mostly just from the Egg’s circus’, outside of that, not at all. But Vicky happily accepted the suggestion that they get together, her curiosity piqued. She took extra care dressing in a summer skirt and blouse, and decided to wear sneakers and cycle over to Gail and Stella’s place.

She looked at the package that Betty gave her the night before. She carefully divided the contents into smaller containers and places several in her back pack, the others back in the refrigerator. The thought of cold paste smeared on her pussy sends shivers, but it’s a warm summer day and it should have lost its chill by the time it was opened at Gail’s, assuming that it was. In any case an appropriate visiting gift, Vicky thought.

Gail greets Vicky at the door with a kiss on the cheek, and ushers her in. Aram is sitting in the living room, looking embarrassed.

“Hello,” he says.

There was a time when Aram consumed Vicky’s thoughts, not that it was true love or anything, but he was hers and she held onto that fiercely. She’d even seen Aram’s friends try various tricks to pry her loose from him, and it shamed her now how scary and possessive she must have seemed. It all was so very important at the time, her whole world had depended on it.

Once in a movie theatre she’d pulled Stella’s hair because she was sitting beside Aram, and then there was the time when she burst in on Rose and Aram wrapping presents for Marc’s birthday, yet the worst was the day she broke down the door to Rose’s folks place thinking that Aram was in Rose’s bed, only to find Carl and Sheila rolling naked on their living room carpet. Carl had grinned at her and said, “Hey, why don’t you pile on here,” and pulled his slick monster dick out of Sheila and added, “Look at what I’ve got for you!” She’d fled to their mutual laughter. About a week before I became because of Rose, Stella and her basement adventure/accident.

“What a fool,” she remembers.

I the Egg changed all that and Vicky was very aware how much she’d become looser, freer, and truth be told, happier. It was terrifying at first, and when she tried to run, it turned out bad, mindless sex in a bus station washroom with aging strangers. “I’ve found the bars of my cage,” she thought at the time, but now she wasn’t so sure. The Egg had said that they’d be released, or at least given more freedom of choice soon. However Andy had entered her life in ways that she had never believed possible, and that was a sweeter kind of prison.

They sat down to lunch, nothing fancy, summer fare with some chilled wine. The conversation turned awkwardly around Vicky’s classes and Aram’s application to a local business college being accepted. He sits uncomfortably.

“Why am I here?” Vicky wondered.

“Would you like to see the house?” Gail asked. “I’ve made some changes.”

“Sure.” Vicky agreed. She really wasn’t sure what was up, but it had to be more than house pride.

It was a good sized place for such a small family. Vicky who’d lived in apartments most of her life wondered what they did in all this space. It seemed empty to her. When Stella’s dad was around, it’d be fuller, but even then compared to her place with Andy, or even the Bullman’s hive of constant activity, it was ghostly.

She made all the right muttering sounds, but couldn’t really force much enthusiasm.

Better when they came to the old study, which Gail’s ex had turned into an office. It had been transformed again, stripped down to hardwood floors and emptied of all furniture. Long floor to ceiling mirrored tiles had been added to one wall. It wasn’t the biggest room she’d seen yet, but it was good sized. There is warmth here that the rest of the house—so far—seems to lack.

Vicky looks all around the space, other than the mirror is a high quality stereo on a stand under a rubber mat to absorb vibrations. Gail and Aram seem to be joined at the hip.

“Your own exercise room?” she guessed.

“Well, dance studio.” Gail replied. “I’m going to start some kind of dance or exercise sessions here. Maybe once a week, or every two. For the ladies during the day. And lessons for the shy guys who’d only do it if they thought there was some guaranteed tail involved. The presence of at least one more female dance partner would be a bonus. I’m sure some of the girls will come once and a while, but not always. Do you want to help? Once your classes are done, I mean? You should see some of the new stretchy dance outfits—hot hot hot, I’ll take you shopping. You’re not going on to school after this, right?”

“No, I thought I’d help Andy, but,” she pauses and looks at Aram, “I don’t want to smother him either. I’ve made that mistake.”

“Think about it. There’s something else though.” Vicky cocked her head towards Gail. “How do you feel about Aram?” Gail looks at him, “Can I tell her?” Aram nodded.

Vicky tried not to stare at either of them, wondering where this is going.

“He’s a little scared of you.”

The petite Vicky stifled a giggle, but then blushed.

Gail continued, “I’ve been dragging him to dances now for a couple of months...”

“Hey! I love those,” he interjected.

“Sorry, just an expression. Well, we’ve become close. You know, more than just the sex thing.”

“I have never been happier,” he said and kisses Gail on the cheek. Then she turned and kissed him back full on the lips. It progresses to a lingering grope first over and then under their clothes.

Vicky waits patiently until they break apart, then answered, “Like Andy and me? I mean I think that’s where we’re at. Without having that ‘relationship’ talk, you know.”

“But how did you feel when Aram kissed me just now? Hot? Bothered? Even a bit jealous?”

“Ah, are you looking for my permission? Don’t worry, do what you want. The Egg-therapy was very effective. Aram. I’m sorry I was such a pill. I’m happy for you two.”

“It’s a bit more than that. Remember what the Egg said about you?”

“Yeah, that I feel extra connected to the group when I make out with any of you. And I do. But even without that everyone has been great to me too. Closer than what’s left of my family. And a real friend in Annette,” seeing their skeptical looks, she added, “For sure. And I found Andy. And the sex is great great great.” Gail and Aram nod.

“Not that. Their compulsion towards you.”

“You mean thinking about me. Well that’s pretty flattering. But it doesn’t seem like that big a deal. I’ve fucked them all at one point or another, and it’s nice. Troy’ll call me up at the oddest times, and Will sometimes rides me for a quick one if I’m visiting Annette, and the other guys have been helping me with school, which always leads to some fun. Though I can’t remember the last time I was with Aram, now I think of it.”

“He’s been avoiding you. Not wanting to send you back to where your head was at.”

“Really? No need.”

“Sometimes I think the Egg is winging it and doesn’t know exactly what it’s doing or how powerful the commands are. Right now Aram has a killer jones on for you. So bad he doesn’t know how to ask for help. Show her.”

Aram starts to strip. He blushes as he pulls his tidy-whities off, his dick is rock hard, it’s head a swollen purple-orange. “It started this morning. I woke up thinking about you.”

“I’ve milked him three times already and it just won’t go down.” Gail finishes, “So can you help him out? Gently, he says it’s a little sore. You can use my bed if you want?”

“Why don’t you join us? I got nothing on this afternoon and sounds like more fun than studying. I brought some special treats we could try.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Naked on the bed, Vicky tentatively reached for Aram’s dick. When it didn’t explode as she touched the tip, she coos, “OK, let’s try this first, lie on your side. Gail, hand me some of the magic cream.”

Vicky snuggles in close behind Aram and they spoon on the bed, lying on some soft towels spread over the sheets. His dick looks like an old piece of hickory, wood from another age. She greases her palm and gently lays it over the head.

Aram shakes a little as she presses closer.

“It’s all right. I’m right here. Relax and feel this.” She slowly stroked up and down his shaft, stopping to relube after a few cycles. “Does that feel good? No pain?”

“Yes,” Aram said, he’s trembling slightly. “I think you can go faster.” Her breast press against his back as she reached under him and cups his balls with her other hand. She brings her head up to his neck and starts nuzzling and sucking the nape, while increasing the speed of her hands.

“Cum for me. I want to see it. I’m right here; listen to my voice and cum.”

And he does.

It’s not Marc level bountiful, but a change of sheets will be more than needed, even though the towel it’s soaked in. His deflated penis no longer appears so angry, it’s regained its natural creamy brown color; Gail thought it had a happy glow and the crisis is over.

“Thank you. Thank you both,” Aram pants as he rolls over and kisses Vicky, his front from knees to belly button a sticky mess. He looks deeply in Vicky’s eyes, “I’ll never avoid you again.” Then he moves on to Gail, slorshing on the pool of jizz on the way. “Beautiful lady, you knew just what to do. I want to fuck you both all day long. I want to lick your beautiful beautiful boobs. I want to suck your clits until you scream in ecstasy. I am your humble servant. I am your devoted Aram. Ask of me anything and I will deliver.”

“You say that now.”

“I swear on my happy testicles, may they never fill again if I break my vow.”

Gail smiles, rather amused by this, turns to Vicky and said, “Let’s continue the house tour. Wait until you see my walk-in shower. Aram, if you would, clean up and change the sheets to the satin ones in the closet, then come join us.”

“This is great,” the naked Vicky exclaimed, looking around the huge shower enclosure. Tan tile on two sides, clear fog resistant Plexiglas on the other two, both a fixed shower head at one end and a long, massaging telephone nozzle at the far side. A built-in bench runs down the inside wall, an inset shelf holds a variety of lotions and creams, shampoo, conditioners, etc., and there is even a waterproof radio built in. Five or six adults could stand comfortably inside.

Gail hung up her robe and stepped in as well. “I love it.”

For the first time Vicky was a touch jealous of Gail’s wealth. Nothing else—except maybe the bedroom—has been anything she’d want to live in, it all seemed empty and cold, dark hard woods and muted earth tones, not bright and sunny. With just Gail and Stella there, it seemed to Vicky to be way too much. But this, well she could live with one of these.

“If you are going to do dance classes and exercises, everyone is going to want to use this.”

“I know. This is the largest one they make. I was thinking about putting a second one in the downstairs bathroom too. It means getting in the plumbers and a new water tank.”

“Not cheap.”

“It’d be a stretch. But I have a lot of old gloomy stuff to sell that I want to get rid of.”

Vicky looks up at the taller older woman and touches the side of her breast lightly, “Does it hurt?”

“Well, it’s a little more sensitive than the area around it. Go on, feel it for yourself.”

Vicky cupped the underside of Gail’s breast and lifted it, then with her other hand’s index finger stroked the cartoon devil shaped scar. It has a rougher texture, not hard, but like doeskin. Gail’s nipples stiffen and her knees bend a bit.

“Oh, and it’s a turn-on trigger too. Like an ”on“ button for my clit. Pops up like toast.”

“So you like this?” Vicky asked as she brings her lips to it.

“Do you want proof?” Gail takes Vicky’s hand and lays it on her moistening core. In reply Vicky circled the mark with her mouth and licked back and forth with the tip of her tongue.

Gail sighs as she breaks off the embrace, “I want to show you my favorite feature,” then turned on the water, letting it run until it reaches consistent comfortable warmth. The shower head runs at a gentle circular setting. “It’s better if you are already wet.” She sprayed herself, and after Vicky nodded, her as well.

Then the head setting is rotated to “Massage #3” which doesn’t have the pounding force of #1 and #2, or their regularity, instead it features a more complex pattern of spurts and constant water. She then brings it to about a half foot from her pussy and aims it, using her other hand to spread herself and strokes the warm stream across and sideways. She resisted her urge to bring herself off now, saving it for later. “Go on, try it,” she said as she handed it to Vicky and sat on the bench.

Aram has come in the bathroom and now sits on the toilet, looking through the clear glass at the bathing beauties. He doesn’t want to interrupt, and though he’s feeling much better now, the best he can manage is a half-erection, and he felt that to disturb them with less than a full mast would be disrespectful. So he watched as the older and younger woman share an intimate moment, knowing that both will be his soon, and he feels like the king of the world, the chief lion in the pride—at least today, no longer a lonely stranger in a strange land, the Egg has made them all travelers in a very odd land indeed. Odd, but wonderful.

He watched as Vicky brings the shower stream across her breasts and down her belly, then between her legs. Her face lights up as her eyes go wide, and she wobbled a bit. Gail takes her by the waist and sits her on her lap, Vicky legs spread and the water still pushing and probing her sensitive parts.

“Keep going,” Gail encourages as she wraps one arm around Vicky’s waist and grabbed a boob with the other.

Vicky resumed pleasuring herself with the spray. After she cums, she turned on Gail’s lap and gives her a big but brief kiss on the lips. “How do you ever leave this room?” she asked.

Aram stood up and enters the shower. He still reeks of spent spunk, which the women find “interesting” but unclean. The spray is turned on him. He raises his arms and slowly rotated as Vicky hosed him down. They bring out the soap and take turns getting each other slick. Aram loves sliding his frothy hands over Vicky’s slightly curved outward belly, and kneeling by the drain, running his soap-slick hands up and down Gail’s long legs from ankles to the top of her inner thighs. And in turn having both women touch his wet body all over, soaping and massaging and applying expensive lotions.

“Recovered?” Gail asked.

Aram smiled, puts his hands on his hips and thrusts out his pelvis, showing his fully-stiff but normal-looking rod. “Does this look OK to you?”

Gail reached over, “Feels ok, but I’ll have to examine it in more detail.”

Vicky runs her hand down Aram’s arms and onto his chest. “That’s quite a six pack. And those muscles? They new? An Eggy thing?”

“Yeah, I mean I still have to work out, but I told him that I didn’t mind aging a bit and stop looking like such a kid. I mean I’m almost 19 and I look like I’m 16, or I did. I tried to grow a mustache but that looked stupid. So I got a boost and here, feel this.” He flexed his arm muscles and both Gail and Vicky give them a feel.

“Oooh!”

“Nice. Don’t overdo it though.”

“Yeah, I have to stay slim and flexible for the dancing competitions.”

Vicky gave it a bit of a thought, “Do you think I can get my teeth fixed, I mean my overbite?”

“Sure dear, but your overbite is cute. Very Joni Mitchell.” Gail leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.

“Well, maybe not all the way, but I’d ride Carl’s big dong for hours to earn a killer smile. Hell, I rode Carl’s big dong on Monday because he was helping me with my accounting course. And because, you know, big dong.” Vicky giggled.

“Here check this out. Aram, turn around and bend over. Look it’s not just his abs that have firmed up.”

“Wow. Do you ever have a great butt now too. So round. So firm.” She couldn’t resist a squeeze.

“Thanks.”

“Why don’t you kiss it while I suck him off?” Gail asked.

Bent at the waist, Aram gripped the horizontal bar running under the closed showerhead while Gail slid under him and popped the head of his dick in her mouth. He moaned quietly and then louder as Vicky stuck her tongue up his asshole pushing it in and out in time with Gail’s bobbing head. Gail handed the vision-blocked-by-bum-flesh Vicky a plastic jar of one of Betty’s creams and Vicky knew what she was being asked to do. Lubing up a couple of fingers she replaced her tongue up his ass with two fingers, searching, finding and rubbing his prostrate while slowly counting to sixty. “Cilantro” she tried and he bellowed in orgasm, overflowing Gail’s mouth.

“Learn something new every day,” Gail observed. She caught Aram’s panting gaze. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Later they lay on the bed, Gail in the middle on her back, arms out around Vicky and Aram, who lie on their sides, a head on each of Gail’s shoulders, basking in the afterglow of great sex. With Gail taller than either of them this intimately brings their faces close and even feels oddly maternal to her, if it wasn’t for Aram letting his fingertips wander idly through her pubic forest, combing it slowly with his open fingers.

Betty’s concoctions were a hit, Vicky wondered why they hadn’t tried them on Sam last night, or even on Andy when she got home. But both tasted as great on Aram as they did on Gail. “Have to save some for Will tomorrow,” she thinks.

While they don’t speak in whispers, soft voices are all they need, perfect for confidences small and large.

“That was nice,” Gail purrs.

“How did we live before? I don’t think I’m doing less. Am I missing something?” Vicky adds.

“I don’t ‘just hang out’ as much,” says Aram. “But I think I’m doing more. More energy maybe? From the Egg?”

They agree on this.

Gail swings around and Vicky and Aram assumed that she’s going to suck one or both of them, but instead turns Vicky on her side and spreads her legs, spreads a couple of heaping fingers-full of the Magic Cream over her and Vicky’s mons and lowers herself between Vicky’s legs so that their cunts rub together in the split. Gail’s special pussy lips stretch out and seals with Vicky’s, and her inner walls swell to push against the youngsters sensitive inner walls and she uses her fingers to spread the cream tightly around where they meet. Something long and snaky slithers around Vicky’s puss rubbing and pushing, which in ecstasy she realizes is Gail’s elongated clit.

“Oooh, that’s a new trick! I like it. Creamy.”

“Yeah, now watch this.”

It started slowly with just some rubbing, but soon both are humping against each other, the seal never breaking yet both openings widening, creating a cavity vacuum that is filled when both women orgasm into it. Their fluids mix and are sucked back into their bodies, only to be ejected again with another orgasm, alternating between the two back and forth, a pitcher and a catcher then back again. Aram watches in fascination, slowly stroking his dick. Gail squirts into Vicky, who sucked in the fluid and mixes it with her own and blasted it back into Gail. Repeat.

The ladies cum into each other one more time and then separate with a wet plop. Gail turns back around and kisses Vicky on the lips and lies on her back propped to semi-sitting on a large pillow. Vicky and Aram reach over and gently fondle a breast each.

Vicky asks, “Did you know that would happen?”

“Sort of. I told Eggy that it was unfair that I had the health extras and said that everyone should. It asked me if I wanted to share, and of course I said yes. With the guys all I have to do is orgasm while their dicks spurting in me, some of my fluids will fight their way up their shafts to their scrotums and their spunk will then be a cure all for their partners. It’s more complicated for the ladies but still pretty fun, what we just did gives you the same scrubbing bubbles dick wash as I have.” She grabbed Vicky’s pussy. “Cunt was too. Tongue wash?” and she lent in for a French kiss on Vicky then with Aram. “One difference. No one can spread the ability it past themselves like I can, with one exception. Can you guess?”

“You can’t do this with Stella,” Aram observed.

“Right, the ‘No Powers on Incest’ rule. So the Egg added an extra twelfth part to each person I do, and Stella can collect it from them by repeating the process, for her to get the same benefit you both now have I have spread it to everyone else and then she has to fuck or scissor cunt rub each of you until you spend on her kitty. Another one of the Eggs attempts to make us get to know each other better. I’ll tell her that I’ve done you both, so she’ll probably come soon asking for a screw.”

“Anytime.”

“And why the cream?”

“Just makes it better.”

“Ah. Can we do that again? I mean not now, but like in the future.” Vicky reached down and rubbed Gail’s greasy snatch.

“Don’t see why not. Speaking of our weird lord and master, it had some news for Aram and me—apparently we are being watched.”

“Who? You? Aram? The group?”

“Aram and me.”

Vicky raised her head off Gail’s shoulder to see Aram nod in agreement.

“Private detectives. From my ex.”

“Freaky. Why?”

“Well, Stella’s too old for custody. And they talk on the phone once a week or so, she was always close to him, having him gone hurt her more than me. Our divorce is final. I’m not supporting Aram or any other guy, and I have plenty of regular gentlemen callers—well a half-dozen or so, you know who I mean. Aram and I go dancing once or twice most weeks, so we’re seen together as a couple. But that means nothing under our terms.”

“Have you called him and asked what’s up?”

“I was too pissed off at first. But when I did, he blamed his lawyer. The weasel.”

“Lawyer or ex?”

“Both,” Gail laughed. “Turns out he wants to get married again. Wants out of the monthly alimony obligation, ‘Ashleigh’ doesn’t want us tied together in any way—like Stella is nothing, and the lawyer was looking for dirt. Thought Aram was it. As I said, we’ve been seen together a lot, and tongues are wagging, not always in a good way. We win contests. And the ladies at the club are buzzing like bees. There’s this stuck-up stick named Andrea who’s been an extra pain. A pretty enough young lady, if you like that Jackie Kennedy look, but a real ugly mind.”

Aram reached over and licks Gail’s nipple until it stiffens. He lifted her boob so it’s pointing up with the perky tip on top, “Number 1! We’re number 1!” She pushed him back down, laughing.

Vicky asks, “So this new girlfriend, she preggers?” Gail tapped her nose and nodded.

“That’s why the attempt at pressure. He should have just asked. So I set my shark on his shark—I also told him to call his shark a fool because I’d have just granted this before without the fuss—but I’m swapping my alimony for a lump sum. A larger lump sum now, and not just because of the detectives. Told him to let Ashleigh know that Stella will be thrilled to have a little brother or sister.” Gail went serious, “There is something worse...”

“Worse? How bad?”

“His lawyer contacted Feds about Aram’s student status. So I added whatever costs in legal fees that may be for him.”

“I told you I’m fine. I’m going to class, I’m not working, what could go wrong?”

Gail tousled Aram’s dark hair and kissed the top of his head. “One jerk. One corrupt clerk. One slip of the pen. That’s all it takes, sweet boy. And lawyers may not be enough. More may need to be done.”

This takes a few seconds for her to process and when it does Vicky goes, “Whoa! I think I see where you are going. After the ex is safely married and the new financial agreement finalized. Right?”

Gail smiled and nodded. Aram looked puzzled.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about talking to Andy about marriage because I want kids. I’m sure he’d consider it, but it’s not the time yet, but... whoa again.”

He said, “I don’t understand.”

Vicky sat up and looked at Aram, he admired how her nice small breasts swing gently with her movements. She put one finger under his chin to direct his eyes into hers. “I think you’ve just been proposed to. Congratulations.”

Gail reached down and cups his balls and smiles lovingly. “Little dancer, didn’t you just pledge these to me less than two hours ago?”

CODA—FIVE YEARS LATER

Andrea:

What happened? I’m just so glad that it’s all over now. Well, I mean that the worst of it is over, the sleepless nights, the nagging worry—all of that. I haven’t thought about this in so long it seems like a recurring dream that keeps fading away until the next time you have it, then it all comes back then fades again. Am I just talking to myself, or are you there? Am I babbling?—I never babble. I don’t know, I thought I just now saw this thing, like a giant purple-orange—I don’t know, but now I close my eyes and remember, and I don’t think I saw anything at all. I can’t seem to shut up. Hormones acting up, maybe. I’m sleeping a little weird these days, because... you know. So I must be talking to myself.

Describe myself? Why would I do that? OK, then. I’m perfect. Not good enough? Well then, I’m female, brunette with the best perm Bruno can manage, five foot nine, slim but not to the point of skinny, always well dressed but never in bad taste or gaudy, married, over twenty-five and not yet thirty, comfortably well off from a good family and a natural leader, from student council in school to frequent committee chair at our country club’s activity councils.

Tell my story, why? Who is asking? OK.

I couldn’t believe it when Gail first brought her boy-toy to the club. I mean, it’s one thing to have a swarthy little gigolo, it’s another to parade him around in polite company. I mean, really, my husband is paying big bucks to keep the riffraff out. But I was nice as pie. Honest I was.

The girls and I were playing bridge in the lounge when they walked by. At first I thought he was a bus boy and indicated the empty glasses on the side table. Gail then came over and had the nerve to introduce us, he was her “dance partner”—I know what that means, miscegenation is one thing, socializing while doing it quite another—for the club social that evening. Her guest. Well at least he wasn’t going into our swimming pool. Who knows what germs would spread!

And he had an accent. He couldn’t even talk decent American English!

“Pleeze to meet you, Mrs. Andrea,” he said. I later repeated to all my friends how he said “Pleeze”, which they ALL thought it was a scream.

Well, I was polite, a lady always is, my mother used to say through grit teeth. “Hello, Mr. Aram. It’s interesting to see you here.”

I’ll say this for the little foreigner, I looked in at the dance later and he could really move. Probably just because those people have natural rhythm.

Well, it was only one night, and I could head this off before it happened again. I had a strict talk with the club manager, who assured me that he’d do what he could to discourage Gail from bringing in any undesirables.

So when they showed up at the next month’s dance, I was livid. I went right to the manager’s office and asked him what was going on. The coward. He told me that everything was fine, that the little brown man was a polite, well-educated, well-bred exchange student from a good home—as if such a thing is possible.

So I started a petition to get Gail expelled from the country club. Really, that may sound extreme, but it was the only solution. I started with the bridge group, and then several of the other members I knew I could count on, and in the end when I presented it I had almost forty signatures, twenty of my lady friends and seventeen of their husbands—though I suspect that many of the girls were more afraid of the hot-to-trot divorcee on the loose than the invasion from the third world.

And nothing. Some talk of fear of a lawsuit. They kept coming to the monthly dance, and worse, I caught several of the ladies who had signed the petition for me—who I had thought were on my side!—dancing with him. And not just the frug and shimmy and all those modern dances, but close waltzes and slow ballads too. I swear I saw him place his grubby hand on Minnie Swanson’s fanny and she then moved in closer to him. Really! Shocking.

Then one night he asked me to dance. Of course I begged off, but later that same night we did a traditional square dance and I found myself allemanding around with his hand in mine. He asked me again to dance the next number with him, and for some reason I said yes.

Fortunately it was one of those modern disco numbers, we didn’t have to touch that much, but he did put his hands on my hips at one point. I’ll say this for him, I don’t think I’ve danced with better, he really was good, I could see why Gail had him on a leash. We were on fire, and I was getting more flush by the second. I swear I was sweating a puddle, even from my coochie, which I could feel dribbling down my leg. I needed air.

And he followed me outside, just far enough that we could still hear the band.

“Are you all right?” he asked?

“I’m hot. I’m overheating.”

“We need to loosen your clothing and let your skin breath”

And then he unbuttoned my blouse, all the while moving me around in time to the music. And I let him.

“You’re still hot. More air!” and he removed my top and let it fall to the ground. There I was in just my bra and skirt. He held me close and twirled me around once, then undid my skirt and let it fall to the ground too.

“Still hot?”

I nodded.

“I need to test your temperature”, and then he unbuttoned his shirt exposing his chest. What a beautiful hard set of pecs on that boy. Like a body builder but not as overstuffed. Hard and well defined. I gaped. I lusted. I moaned.

With that he pressed himself right against me and stuck his tongue right into my mouth. And for some reason I pushed my tongue back against his. While still swaying we rubbed our chests together so my bubs popped out, my bra straps slipping off my shoulders down my arms. He pulled away leaving my breasts out on display outside my empty bra—and the music continued, would it never end?

He leaned me back against the pool house wall, pulled aside my panties and entered me. And he slid right in, I was so wet he slid right in. And he had me, he was brutal, hard, fast, he pinched my bum and twisted my poor nipples. He bit my lip and whispered in my ear, “You like it like this.”

And I loved it. It was just like Mandingo.

At one point I closed my eyes and let it all happen. He pushed something plastic past my lips, it wasn’t very thick, and only the first few inches went in. “Get eet wet,” he commanded and I drooled all over it. And then he removed it and shoved it right up my bum, all the while using my poor cunnie as his property. I gasped, and then, then I bucked back.

Finally after the music reached a climax so did he, spurting deep inside me. And to my shame, I screamed as I orgasmed too. He asked when he withdrew if I was on birth control. I said yes.

“Peety” he said as he zipped up and walked away, leaving me in my high heels, my bra down, torn and off my shoulders, my panties pushed aside, and all my shame exposed to the world.

When I pulled the object out of my violated ass hole, it turned out to be my husband’s favorite toy, a custom black with gold and platinum detailed Montblanc fountain pen, a good half inch thick, the one he likes to flash around and show every new acquaintance, like it was a diamond pin or something. I couldn’t just get rid of it. I had to give it back. And I knew every time from now on when he brought it out and boasted about it, I’d remember this night and where it had been.

I redressed as best as possible without a mirror, and realized that my panties had ripped and wouldn’t stay on. And I was holding the pen. I wasn’t going to wipe it on my dress, so the panties were further soiled. I then tried to throw them over the fence, but they caught on some wire that ran across the top of the fence I hadn’t seen. And hooked there, blowing in the evening breeze. Luckily this was the side of the building away from the parking lot so probably no one would see them before tomorrow. But I had to get out of there and get properly cleaned up. I hoped the women’s washroom off the coat check room was empty, it was the furthest from the party.

I thought I couldn’t walk through the building with the pen in my hand. Someone would ask about it and I’d have to tell them about my shameful orgasm. In detail. And it would stick out if I tried to tuck it in my bra or under my dress. There was only one way to get it back to hubby.

“Ew,” I said as I eased it back up my tushie. It was good and lubricated, at first I’d tried it in my puss but it kept falling out when I walked. Finally I just got it all slippery with a stir of my cunny, which still was loaded with that foreigner’s spunk, which dripped out every once in a while. With the pen sitting fully up my fundament I walked gingerly to the ladies, only being stopped once by the club manager who was just checking to see if I was flipping out over Gail and that kid. I lied and said everything was ok, but that I had to piss like ten racehorses, I was as shocked by my language as he was, and ducked away to the little girls room where he wouldn’t follow. Damnit, the freaking pen was starting to feel good as I slowly pulled it out with a plop.

Peeping out to see that the manager was gone I went to the purse locker and got my bag. I rinsed off the pen and dropped it on the car seat when John wasn’t looking, so he thought it had fallen out of his pocket. He picked it up and brought it closer to see if the small diamond on the clip was still in place and suddenly took a huge whiff of air and got a funny cross-eyed look in his face.

“John! Are you OK?”

“Huh, yeah.” Then he gave me a huge sly grin, like he knew something and I was in for a surprise. Fox-like. And then we were back to normal.

We made love that night. And he asked me if he could do my butt. I thought, “No!” but heard myself say, “Yes”, and before you know it he flipped me on my hands and knees, squirted some baby oil up my bum and pushed himself in slowly with a long moan, which I matched. It would be wrong to say I didn’t cum.

On our end of the month bill pay night we sat at the kitchen table, me reading the information and him writing the checks. He always takes pride in his elegant handwriting and he uses his favorite pen in smooth flowing loops and whorls. He stops to think on how much to add to one credit card payment, and brought the pen near his nose. I noticed the snort, like a camel or a donkey, followed by that same grin. Then after a few glassy-eyed seconds he seemed to snap out of it and we finish the bookkeeping.

About an hour later I’m bent over the sink rinsing the dishes before they go into the dishwasher, John sneaks up behind me and pulls down my panties. “I want to fuck your ass,” he says into my ear as he spoons me from behind.

“Yes,” I tremble, going “Oh God, not again!” inside. The hot steaming sink made me break out in forehead sweat as he pushed and pushed me against the countertop, gripping my boobies under my soaked blouse, which was turning transparent from the times I was bent into the sink at the end of a long stroke.

We both figured out pretty quickly that the pen was magical. He hasn’t understood why, but he knows what it does through a lot of experimentation. I know it was because of Gail and her homunculus, they cursed the pen, they cursed me when he pushed the hard round tip all the way up my bummy. What John figured out is that if he took a smell of the pen, then he could later ask me for a bum-poke and I’d say yes. If he didn’t take the scent, then I could, and did say no. And that any time I tried to take the pen away or break it all I could do with it was stuff it up my butt. So if the pen went missing it was always the first place he looked. And I couldn’t take it out, sometimes I’d have to go ask him to do it. How embarrassing. And weirdly we never seem to have discussed it though I often mean to give him a stern lecture.

But that’s all in the future. That night Gail and her pet monkey were gone by the time I dressed again and straightened myself in the restroom, thank goodness I saw no one, and no one saw me, and I thought no more of it until the next month’s dance. But they didn’t come to it, in fact she stopped coming to the club entirely, and when I asked, the manager said Gail had given up her membership.

Well maybe she was so embarrassed by how her toy acted that she could no longer show her face. Good. That night seemed like a bad fever dream, unreal, and was soon far in the rear window. More important things were happening in my social set.

My best friend Donna was finally pregnant, she and her husband Jim had been trying for years, doctors, clinics, even an operation to no end, and now she was so excited, and me and our bridge group were thrilled for her. And not only that, but within a month two more of my closest gal pals were expecting too! Life was a whirl of baby showers and happy couples. It wasn’t a big surprise, we were mostly at the age where it was time that if we were going to have first or second children we were going to do it sooner than later. In fact, the next few months saw a real bumper crop of pregnancies, four more club ladies announced they were going to have a happy event. Then three more the next month. It must be something in the water.

Donna delivered first. The doctor said that even after all her difficulties he’d never seen such a trouble free pregnancy.

I was thrilled when I first saw her beautiful baby girl, all freshly pink skinned less than a day old. But then, by the time the baby was brought home, I sensed something wrong. I know babies change a lot in their first few weeks, but this one was distinctively dark. But as I said, they change. And Donna and her Jim were so very happy, so I said nothing. After a couple of months it was obvious that her little one would be dusky, and I raised it as delicately as I could. Their reply was that they were aware of it, Jim’s gran was Black Irish after all, Spanish Armada and all that, and wasn’t she just the cutest little button on the planet? And the baby shower invites kept coming and coming.

It wasn’t until there was close to a dozen due dates and new birthdays circled on my calendar that I realized that all the mothers and mothers-to-be had signed my petition. Coffee-with-cream baby after coffee-with-cream baby popped out, and each happy couple were thrilled to their cores with the new addition to their lives. I tried to talk to some of the husbands, tell them they were being made fools of, but each one pooh-poohed me, saying that they had a Choctaw chief as a great-grandfather, or a swarthy Greek tycoon, or their Viking headman ancestor had specialized in raiding the sultan’s harem for wives and other such nonsense, as if that was something to be proud of. Strangers would come up to them and say it’s nice that they adopted, and they’d then get puzzled and say little Robert Jr. or Roberta was all theirs. They looked like fools. I stopped getting invited to places, so I shut up and grit my teeth and said nothing more.

I started to get worried. Honestly, I can’t say that fellow raped me. I wanted it so badly at the time, and I’m not a liar. I wasn’t drugged, afterwards I felt myself again. It was just one moment when I lost it—I had always believed it was a myth that women sometimes just couldn’t control themselves, and I thought myself immune, but I guess this goes with being the weaker sex. Still, according to hubby and my ‘ten year plan’ it was time for me to have kids. So he was asking when, and once I demurred, he started talking about therapy and counseling. Like I’d go tell a stranger my problems.

Then I saw my chance to learn more. Sue’s a nervous little thing, in heels she needs to stand on a footstool to reach five foot. And she never could keep her mouth shut in the face of one of my icy stares. Full of energy and always eager to please, I’ve had her number since first grade. Chatty but meek as a mouse when challenged. And the proud mom of a bouncing new baby, one of the first people to sign my petition.

Still, I had to push her as hard as I could before she ’fessed up and admitted that she had intercourse with Gail’s little gigolo. I pressed for details, and then I pressed again. Never has that mouse shown any hint of backbone, but finally she exploded at me.

“Yes. We fucked. We fucked hard with no reason other than fucking. And it was fucking awesome. Fuck was it good! ... .... .... You know, it was very wrong to make that petition. Mr. Aram was a real gentleman. I jumped him, he didn’t jump me. I grabbed him by the lapel and dragged him into an empty cloakroom at the club, tore his clothes off and had my way with him. Twice! I was a tiger and he was a captured gazelle, a beautiful brown helpless gazelle. Grrrrowwww!” With that she curved her long immaculately manicured fingers down and brought them down near my face like a cat scratching out, and I recoiled back.

“He didn’t know what hit him, poor boy. I pushed him on the desk and rode him like a cowgirl,” which Sue then demonstrated with this lewd bucking of her hips while pretending to be throwing a lariat like Dale Evans. “And after we were done, I was scared that I had raped him. I mean if that is possible. Have you seen is muscles? I barely knew him and he never made move one on me. But when we were done, he kissed my cheek and said, ‘Thank you’ and helped me get dressed. Then I had to find a safety pin for his pants, I’d ripped the button off. But... he was a great great fuck, with the music going it was like we were sex dancing. Whoo boy! Whatta man...” That silly bitch was lost in her train of thought, and if I hadn’t been also thinking about how great his dick sliding in and out as he bit my knipples had felt, I’d have given her a piece of my mind and stopped her cold. But she snapped out of it first, “Ahem, er... Oh yeah... And that myth, you know the one, the one about size? His was nice, but my Kevin is bigger. ”

“I bet he is,” I think, Kev’s six-three and at least 320 pounds. And he doesn’t perspire, he sweats. A lot.

“So you better stay away from him,” she adds as she turns to stomp away.

Before she reaches the door, I ask, “Did this happen at a dance? After you’d partnered with him with him?”

She turn, her face red with rage, “Of course, when else would I see him? And you know what else? I apologized to Gail about signing the petition. She was very gracious. I know what you’ve been saying and you are just wrong—I was on the pill and it was a good year before little Kevin Junior was born. We planned him, and if I ever hear you ever say differently, I’ll scratch your eyes out. I never want to speak to you again, we are no longer friends! Bitch! Fuck you!”

Like we were ever friends.

I did try to confront Gail, but when I went by her house, I couldn’t seem to get out of the car, and when I tried the phone, my fingers didn’t want to dial the number correctly.

Three more caramel-skinned newborns the next year, one a late “miracle” baby from old Mrs. Barnstable, who I’d have thought would be past it long ago, nearly 45 with a husband nearer seventy. Of course they were thrilled, and so were their adult children, which surprised me as I’ve always thought that family fought too publicly about who would inherit what, and this was another slice out of whatever pie they had.

Then Sue and Kev had another tan boy. And I hear she is soon to drop number 3. Did she sleep with that guy again… and again? I can barely remember his name these days. And what’s her name, Gail, yeah who could forget that one.

By now they were all bringing their brats to the club—in fact they had set up a day care room where we used to do floor exercising. I’ll say this; I’ve never seen such a perpetually happy group of toddlers. And when seen together, well, that foreign kids face—Rampah? Why can’t I even remember his name correctly—shines from each and every one of them, boys and girls. It may be in the lips, the curl of the hair, the eyes, or even the graceful way they all move—it’s eerie. It’s like that late night movie that scared the panties off me when I was 12, “Village of the Damned”. And the names. Every boy was a junior of their supposed father, Bob Jr., Frank Jr., even a Prescott III, Jr., which doesn’t make sense at all. Every girl had a female version of dad’s name too, Francis for Frank, Bronwyn for Brian, and Buffy for Biff.

And the moms—what a group of stage mothers they all turned into. Put more than one of them in a room and the one-upmanship would scald a baked potato. The only thing they agree on is audition and pageant carpool schedules. And none of their kids is even five yet.

Then this summer we went away on a romantic vacation to the UP of Michigan, a private island resort, miles from everything. It was fantastic, swimming, boat trips, fine wine and a four-star chef for the dinners, but I couldn’t find my pills. I had told John that I was off them, so I couldn’t ask him to go and get more or even use a condom. But it had been close to four years since that night. After we polished off a bottle of stunning pinot noir, I told myself I was being foolish. When we made love that weekend it was for the first time without birth control in our married lives.

And now I’m waiting in the doctor’s office—I missed two periods. I’m shaking like a leaf, but press against the wall trying not to show it. A nurse comes in and puts a folder in a plastic holder on the door and tells me that the doctor will see me next. When she leaves I rush over and open the file, but it’s all my past history, I replace it like I was peeking at something I shouldn’t see, though it’s my records. Then Dr. Hansen opens the door and says, “Congratulations.” I faint dead away.

But when I wake up, everything is alright. And my baby—or should I say babies—triplets!—are going to be the best babies ever. I’m waddling around like a roast whale stuffed with elephants, but the doctors say it’s going very well. They’re going to grow up in a house surrounded by love and warmth. They—I’m hoping for at least one ‘she’, John naturally wants at least one ‘he’—are never going to want for anything, ever. I wish I had a third teat.

Our biggest fight has been over names, if it’s all boys, he thinks John Junior the First, John Junior the Second and John Junior the Third is a good idea, but I almost have him convinced that John Junior for the first out of the gate, so to speak, then Johnson, and finally Ian, the Scottish version of John would work. Makes calling them to dinner easier. But it’s his decision.

And I’m so very happy.

What were we talking about?