The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Before her class, Vicky called Betty to tell her how much she and Andy had liked her concoctions for Sam’s book. And how Gail and Aram had given it them a big two extremities-up as well. And to mention that they’d used it on the guys as well as the gals, suggesting that she should give that a whirl.

“Can I make another suggestion?” she asked.

“Of course dear,” Betty replied.

“Marc and Will are coming over later to help me study. Can you send me a copy of the recipes with them? I want to try to make the paste and the oil myself. It’ll be a nice test of how easy they are to do. I’m a pretty average cook. I’ll let you know how it comes out. And maybe you should get copies to Gail and Sheila too.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Gotta run to class. Just wanted you to know how gnarly they were”

“Gnarley? Hahahaha.”

“It means fab. Groovy. Peachy keen. Excellent too. Talk to you later, Bye.”

“Bye”

The grin on Betty’s face returns all day, every time she remembers it. “Gnarley? Hahahaha.” She sat down with a lined notepad and wrote three copies of the recipes, handing one to Marc when he comes upstairs for breakfast.

Betty then has a wicked thought, it’s just 9 o’clock—there’s time, but she wants to make sure. She walks as quickly and as quietly up the stairs and listened at Will’s door, where his snoring comes through loud and clear. The shower isn’t running either, and Annette starts her days with at least 20 minutes in the bathroom, usually more. It would be so embarrassing being caught on her knees under the kitchen table sucking Marc off by her children. But that’s what she intended to do. The sucking off that is, not the getting caught. She still had her dignity. Sort of.

Before the Egg this would have been unthinkable, but from what Vicky said all Betty could think of now was opportunity. But it would be so humiliating if she was caught. At least caught when not under compulsion, they’d all seen that as part of their weekly orgy. As she imagined been exposed as such a harlot, she blushes then feels herself get moist. She thinks, “Damn Eggy-programmed reactions!” But no. Sam might figure it out, of course, but where else would she get to taste the concoctions mixed with almost all of the guys spunk using Marc’s special ability.

“Have some more bacon,” she said to Marc as she passes the plate from the warmer, then takes a jar from the fridge, removes its lid and heats it at half power in the microwave for 15 seconds. She tested it with a finger, warm, not hot.

To Marc’s surprise as he’s got a mouthful of scrambled eggs, Betty crawles under the table, unbuckles his belt and opened his pants, dragging them to his feet, and then she pulled down his underwear. He had enough presence of mind to lift his hips as he asked, “Whaa?”

She firmly stated, “We are doing this for the good of the culinary arts. Relax and enjoy.”

“But?”

“The kids are all still sleeping. Let me know if this tingles.”

Marc then had a warm, wet sticky feeling as Betty smeared the paste on his cock and balls. As he swallowed his mouthful he felt Betty lick him from stem to tip.

“It tingles. It feels so good.”

She licked all around and then plunged him deeply down her throat, sucking as much of the goo off, and gently scraping her teeth against his skin to get a bit of the flavor. Not for the first time, she regrets not being able to taste Will. For the good of the culinary arts, of course.

Marc is disappointed when she released him, leaving him all ram-rod stiff. She crawled out and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back? More coffee?”

He nodded as she heats a cup in the microwave for him, and she explained about the paste and the oil.

“We were so focused on using it in the books that none of us thought about using them on guys. Just girls.” She hands Marc the coffee and puts the oil in for a brief warm up. She handed Mark a wet J-cloth and he wiped the last of the paste from his dick and balls. Next she handed him a dry cloth then told him to ‘sit on it’.

Marc always really liked Betty Bullman. But if you had asked him pre-Egg if he’d ever see a circumstances where she would become his casual lover, he’d have called you crazy. Particularly not giving him an early morning BJ under her kitchen table. Not only was she older than his mother, she looked a bit broad-faced and her perm made her seem from a distant age. But since the day she came down to his room and fucked him silly he now sees that she always was pretty cute, not beautiful, but with a wide smile and chipmunk cheeks and a merry laugh. And the Egg had muted then removed her wrinkles and she did have great legs, which she now showed with shorter dresses, not miniskirts, she thought that absurd at her age, but as often as not mid-thigh. And she was more often than not the initiator of their encounters. Of the dozen or so times they had spent on his bed, she came to him over two thirds of the time. Not that he was complaining. He knew part of it was just convenience, and that of all the ladies she was most aware that using sex to add manna to the Eggs pot went to slowing down all their aging. And in Betty’s case reshaping her body making it sexier than ever, particularly after she got that just fucked glow, which seemed to settle over her whole tightening figure instead of going away. But it never seemed that obvious unless like Marc you were looking closely and admiring her shapely ankles as she bustled around the kitchen. And she was extra careful not to hurt Sam’s feelings. And laying between her thighs was a high all in itself.

It occurred to him that she was working hard but still having fun while doing what Eggy wanted to generate manna, and she was being rewarded in turn and what she wanted, at least to start with was physical. She’s become cuter too, or so he thought. Who knew, maybe someday Anette would look older than her. Though probably not, if that looked like it could happen Annette would probably get all competitive and try to outfuck her mother. In any case he concluded that working hard on gathering manna for Eggy and still having fun was a pretty good life strategy, and that he should have a talk to me about it once he figured out what he wanted to ask me for if he fucked hard and a lot and generated a ton of manna himself. When he did ask, he asked for luck. So after they were released into the wild as it were—no longer restricted to sex within the group, he earns fuck luck, wherever he goes he runs into with some regularity women who would be interested in jumping his bones after a few hours acquaintance—or in some cases less. Sure that includes hookers, call girls and courtesans, but they always pay him after not the other way around. And he received the ability to quickly recognize these potentially willing and eager women even if they don’t know themselves. And what to say to them. He doesn’t have to use this knowledge, you don’t need to eat everything at the buffet, do you? I threw in the bonus that women who want to become pregnant but have been unable to now find him particularly sexy and get the crazy (to them) notion that he can knock them up, if only he gave them a flesh injection in the right slot. And it’s true, his ultra-healing multi-source multi-load cums are close to perfect in resulting in a healthy inheritor of one of the seven connected guys’ special genes. Later I’ll suggest he go to fertility clinics to make a baby batter donation, that’s sure to guarantee some interesting meetings in the waiting room particularly if I do a little preselecting and herding.

Betty gave the oil flask a good shake and crawled under the table again, which she hopes will hide her from a casual view from the hall. She pulled the stopper off the vial and poured some into her cupped hand, then rubbed it up and down Marc’s stiff dick. Restoppering the flask, she opened her mouth and dove right down Marc’s rod, all the way to the root. Then sucking hard she pulled as much of the oil into her mouth as she could.

Remembering Vicky from last night, “It’s different on a penis,” she observed. “Still good, but different.”

She pours another dollop in her hand and regreases Marc. Then she goes to work in earnest, the kids could come down any time now, and it’s not long before Marc is cuming down her throat, only six times, Will is out because of the rules. With each cum she pulls off and re-oils him with a single hand stroke before reattaching herself around his helmet, resulting in one unintended splash across her face.

Done, she gets up and washed herself in the sink.

“Your turn?” he offered.

“Raincheck. Kids down soon. Don’t you have to open Andy’s store?”

“I guess so, now I need to shower again, can’t face the public all sticky,” with that he goes back down the stairs after kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll hold you to that raincheck.”

“We must talk the guys into trimming down there,” she thinks while flossing Marc’s hairs from between her teeth. Gnarley, hahaha.

On Thursday mornings Vicky had “World Around Us,” her final class of the week and completing her required Social Studies credit. She’d chosen it hoping to travel someday, but not right away. But she could dream.

Each weekly class was half history and half geography, focusing on a different country, region, or continent each session. The USA was first week, then the rest of North America, Britain and Continental Europe, the USSR, China and India, Japan, and finally this week South America.

She hoped the package from Brazil had arrived at the shop. Marc would bring it over after he handed off the store to Andy after lunch.

Marc headed next door to pick Rose up, and then Stella, then they all caught the bus to the mall.

The girls were shopping for something new to wear on Saturday; they knew their credit was now good at the Victoria’s Secret, a brand new store that had quickly become a favorite. Imagine a mall shop that sold nothing but beautiful sexy things. Heaven. They could stay there all day.

Marc undid the locks to the shop and asked the girls in before they headed off.

Stella is looking at the mannequin in the corner. Its blouse is open to the belly button, “This has no nips?”

“Old school. Used to be the law. I bet the Victoria Secrets dummies are fully tittied”

Stella and Rose nod.

He grabed Stella and holds her close for a succulent French kiss, his hands under her skirt and her ass feeling his alternating gropes, bringing her desire levels up.

He breaks off and grabs Rose and kisses her too, his left hand under her shirt and bra, finger on her nipple. “Milky Rose coffee with two cream. Warm, not too hot.” He quickly unbuttons her shirt and flips her bra down and sucks. “Ah, I needed that.” Rose’s breasts have swelled, her nipples peak out and she also now feels extra horny. She has her friend in her purse to restore her, but she won’t give Marc the satisfaction of masturbating here. Or sucking his cock. The VS dressing room will have to do.

“Coffee, Stella?” Marc asks, jiggling Rose’s breast in her direction.

“Why not, can always use a shot of caffeine,” the horny girl says as she gives a healthy squeeze and suck on her best friend’s boobie.

Rose can’t get her bra back on, she’s too big now. “Bastards.” She removes it, stuffs Kleenex squares over her nipples to soak dribbles and buttons up again. She’s learned to wear stretchy clothes.

Marc laughs, swats Stella sharply on the ass and pushes them out the door with a “Now that you are in the right frame of mind, happy shopping.” Stella also calls him a bastard as they scurry towards the lingerie store, thighs pressed tight together to prevent leakage.

While he’s setting up the cash float and turning on the electronics in the display case, a package arrived for Vicky, which he puts in his backpack. It’s not very big, about the size of a paperback bestseller but far lighter, and it’s from Brazil. Well, he’d see it later.

Betty finished stacking the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and turned to Will, who was doing the crossword in the morning paper. “You going with Marc to tutor Vicky this afternoon? Can you take a package for her out of the ’fridge when you go?”

“Sure mom.”

“I’ve for one for Sheila too, I’m heading over there now. Don’t forget.”

“I’ll put it in my pack now. Does it need to stay cold?”

“Not really.”

When Betty knocked on her neighbors’ door, it’s Carl who answered and invited her in. He’s still in his pajamas, open at the chest in the late summer heat. These days he usually takes the afternoon and evening shift at his business and lets the day manager open.

“Hi Carl. Sheila around? I have a recipe I’d like her to try.”

“Nope, she’s out shopping. What recipe?”

Betty explained about the paste and oil and Vicky’s suggestion that other people try to make them to see if the instructions are good.

“That’s chauvinistic,” Carl laughs.

“Huh?”

“I’m a better cook than Sheila. I do at least two dinners a week.”

“I knew you did BBQ.”

“That and more. Why don’t I try these now? And you can sit and watch. Don’t say anything until I’m done, or it isn’t a good test, but you can see what I might do differently.”

“Sure. Here’s the recipe and here’s the ingredients.”

Carl pinned the paper to the ’fridge with a magnet and read it, then unpacked the paper bag of ingredients. “Alright”

He had the paste done quickly, there’s not much too it and knowing Sheila, Betty had included pre-measured sandwich baggies of the ingredients, all Carl had to do is add water and put them together in the right order. He’s careful and precise, and so moved on to the oil. It’s a little trickier, some ingredients require heating in a double boiler and then cooling in the freezer for ten minutes. He and Betty chat about their kids and what to expect when the Egg releases them. Betty doesn’t see much change, Carl anticipates a lot. “After all, the kids are going to spread to the four winds. School, new loves, jobs.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’ll seem so empty. I’m pretty used to how things are now. But I guess this was all coming before the Egg.”

“But more fun! I’m done, neighbor hop up on the table, drop your drawers and let’s give this a test run.”

“So here I am a middle-aged housewife sneaking next door.”

“Yep, and as the next door, gotta say it’s great! Here, taste this,” Carl scoops some of the paste onto a finger and Betty sucked it off.

“Not bad. Paprika?”

“Just for the color. Not too much.”

“Just right.” Betty climbs up on the kitchen table and lifts her dress, showing that she’s come prepared for Sheila’s lips on her gash by wearing split crotch panties. “I figured something was going to happen.”

Carl sits on the chair she vacated, and smeared the paste across her baby-smooth freshly shaved puss. Her legs dangled over his shoulders and he pulled her close as she reclined on her elbows. The feeling of peace and well-being that comes when a lover is between her thighs hits them both, their muscles relax, tension gone, like a good massage.

With the first scoop on his tongue, Carl brings his head up. “Delicious, your skin changes it somehow.” And after the second, “You’ll have to warn against perfumes and other scented stuff.”

“Oooh, yes, of course.”

Carl uses his fingers to spread her wide and goes deeper, getting a mix of both paste and bare skin on his palate. Then he presses in with his fingertips causing Betty to moisten even further with each stroke of his tongue around the prodding digits. “Well I like this a lot? How does it do for you? What about the oil?”

Betty pants her reply, “Does me good. Hard to compare with Sam, but you’re great too, and I can almost taste the paste”.

Carl stands up and leans over and puts his tongue in her mouth, squeezing her breast through her blouse. They French for a good while, and when he pulls out, then asks, “How’s that taste?”

“Special”

Carl gets a clean cloth, wets it and wipes Betty while pouring himself some ice water from the fridge, and offering a glass to Betty. He takes the oil and uses his fingers to spread it over her dampness. Once again he uses his fingers and mouth to taste one of the things that are what’s best of her.

This time he fully brings her off, her crying out in orgasm and him trying to catch as much of it as he can. This time when he stands, he opens his zipless pajama bottom and reveals his huge cock and pours the rest of the oil on it, “My turn”. And he plunged his bigness into her pussy. She has barely had a time to recover from her orgasm before she is set off again. “Oh my goodness gracious. I can taste it. Oh, here I go again.”

Carl lifts her off the table and helps her off him and on to her knees, where she takes his length in one long suck down her throat, tasting herself, his oil, and after less than ten strokes, his spunk. He plops down on the chair as she licked him clean. “Paprika works,” she observed.

He helped her up and had her straddle him on the chair, their damp messy genitals rubbing together. They kiss again, and he asked, “How about garlic? And if you’re feeling a need to do something, why don’t you have another kid now? Once we’re let go. The Egg gives you time. If Sam doesn’t want to father one, why not me? Or with Marc, everyone knows—well all the guys know, probably even Sam and Will, that you’re getting it on with him regularly now. It’s your glow. And the shared cums, of course. Plus you’re a great mom too.”

Betty blushed and thinks about it. Maybe, but not the next kid.

The phone was ringing when Vicky walked back into Andy’s apartment. Will on the line, asking if he could bring anything to her for lunch when he picked up Marc at the mall.

“Did Betty give you a package?”

He confirms that is in his backpack.

Vicky says that she’s ok, but they should grab something to eat at the mall before coming over.

The morning class was pretty interesting, but short, with a recap of the entire course taking most of the time. She made herself a sandwich and spreads out the books on the kitchen table, then goes to the second bedroom and sets up there. New sheets with a waterproof underlay on the bed, Andy’s drawings from Sunday on the dresser displayed in temporary cheap frames.

When she moved in Andy insisted that she have her own room. Though they had spent every night together since, it was nice to have a space of her own sometimes. And when company came over, a second bed had proved useful.

She takes several items out of the closet and carries them to the master bedroom, hanging them up for later use.

About an hour later Marc and Will knock on her door and she lets them in. She’s dressed herself as a schoolgirl, with a short tartan skirt, black knee socks,, pigtails and a sheer braless white cotton blouse that’s about half a size too small. She’s put on a little weight, though a small girl and stopped growing, over the summer she’s matured, her hips flared and her bust gained a fuller curve. In part it is simply not eating alone anymore. Andy’s gained a bit of weight too—maybe Gail’s dance classes would be good for them both. Though the few extra pounds look damn good on her, giving a pleasing softness to her face and a bit of a bump to her belly.

“Boys, I’m ready for my lessons.” She posed with one arm up over her head, the other on her hip.

“Man, you look hot!,” Marc exclaimed. “Do I get a kiss hello?”

She wrapped herself around him and they only break apart when Will, coming in behind Marc says, “Save some for me,” and nudges Marc aside for his turn. As a friend Marc lets Will have a turn with her before breaking them apart.

“Work first.”

“Slave driver. Like this?” Vicky spun around showing when her skirt flares out that she’s naked underneath. “To start with, I mean? I want to do a complete review, test next week.”

“Damn you look fine,” Will whispered wetly in her ear while copping a feel. She giggled and pulled away.

“Marc’s right, work first. Marc? Did a package come for me?”

“Right. Here it is. Along with something from Betty.” He hands her the tiny package from Brazil and a sheet of paper.

“And Mom sent a bag for you too,” Will adds, emptying his pack on the counter.

Marc recognized the contents from earlier today, and his eyes light up. “Sweet!”

“Let’s do the review first—just the ones I need work on—and then the new stuff last. We’ll take a break after Asia. Holland or France first?”

“France.”

“Oh yeah, that’s super-hot. France for sure.”

Vicky feels a little relief; those wooden shoes don’t quite fit right. “Be right back.”

She goes to the bed room and changes out of the schoolgirl outfit into a black French maid one, with shiny leather heeled shoes, fishnet stockings, tiny white apron tied tight at the waist, peaked cap, rouged cheeks and bright red lipstick, and feather duster.

“Missuers approve?” she purrs as she comes back in, feather duster in hand.

This wasn’t the first time the boys had seen the maid’s outfit, in fact all the women had one of them custom fitted for “cleaning days”. But it always got them super-hot, no matter who wore it.

“Oiu! I call history first,” Marc says.

The boys have split the “chore” of tutoring Vicky by what they know best, Will geography, Marc history. She sits delicately on Marc’s lap at the table and they start going through the notes with him asking and her answering questions. Each correct answer rewarded with a kiss or a cuddle, each miss with a pinch or a swat on the ass. When done they engage in an extended French kiss, which leaves Marc stiff but patient—Will repeats the process before they moved on to Asia.

One of the things that the Egg measured in manna production was how engaged the couplings were, and to no surprise found that the ladies loved dressing up for the guys to ogle, and the guys who’s jaws dropped the furthest were the ones looking at the ladies in sexy clothes. More than nude, a hot costume or fancy bedroom garb could bring out Mr. Dick like nothing else. Like wrapping on a present.

The first fashion show was the Saturday get together after the first time Troy escorted Betty, Sheila and Gail shopping, early on in their activities on behalf of Mr. Egg. Each lady had bought three outfits, one for themselves, and two more, one to fit one of the older ladies, one tailored to the younger women, who shopped for whom selected at random. Some came from the lingerie shop or the Victoria’s Secret in Andy’s mall, some from the hard-core sex shop they visited at the end of those days. Because of the 3-4 split, Troy got to choose a couple of the outfits too. In the end, at the first fashion show each woman had two new outfits to show off, at least one of which selected by someone else for them. I, Eggy then put some special mojo on them.

The whole fashion show deserves more description, my future self, but for now this will have to do. Best just say it was a success that bore repeating.

The sexy maid’s uniform was one of these first purchases, Gail chose it for her daughter Stella, she’d never been good at cleaning her room, and this amused Gail more than the other choices, but it turned the guys on like a halogen light. Particularly when the Egg made everything that came out of Stella’s mouth be in an outrageously silly French accent, like the knights in that Monty Python movie and have her act like a super slutty sex kitten in the mode of Bardot at her finest.

The moment she put it on, she started straightening the room and dusting with the accompanying feather duster. At first the group thought she was just acting out, but the only thing to stop her cleaning was to ask her to kiss and grope, suck or fuck. And once done, the duster came out again, all the while she moans, “Wee Mizurre, wee madame, je spend grande, je spende grande”, “zoot alures!”, “ooohh la la la la la laaaaaah”, or “churchy la femme,” as appropriate.

The guys all agreed that all the ladies needed to own one of these special uniforms, and so they were ordered by mail. From then on, randomly, one of the women when feeling at loose ends would get the strong urge to put on her maid dress, and head to one of the houses or apartments of the group and be a maid for a couple of hours. Betty and Sheila loved it, neither of them had that luxury of a regular service, and even though they sometimes were the cleaners, their own houses looked great. Gail was more entertained than anything else by it, she usually pulled the maid aside for some fun in bed instead of cleaning, she had a service already, and Andy never lived in such a tidy apartment in his life, sometimes he wondered if it was his at all. Both Carl and Andy worked afternoon shifts too, so they could join in the fun some mornings, Sam missed out, but claimed he didn’t care, though he did.

Because it was random the guys couldn’t anticipate when a “Mam’zelle Maid Cunt Hunt” would occur, as Troy crudely called it, though not to the women’s faces. Always in the morning or afternoon, but if one of the ladies was spotted in the black dress and heels, alerting phone calls would be made and less cleaning was done. The women were always super-receptive to all when in this state, moist to the point of dripping as they worked and far more eager to suck clean a cock or quim than push dust. Gail with her long muscular dancer legs in three inch heels, fishnet hose, black micro-skirt, slit panties and sopping wet in anticipation is a particular sought after prize.

Fortunately for the sake of sanitation, too-busy-fucking-of-the-maid-to-get-the-vacuuming-done often triggers a second or third maid to the location. The Bullman’s place often had several going, either cleaning or bumping fun bits at once when it was the location of the day, as it was the most active and easiest to spot when there is a succulent maid for the taking.

Betty and Sheila had devised a diversionary tactic when one of the “maids” showed up at the house, they’d try to dragoon any stray males into their bedrooms and entertain them instead, to prevent distracting from the cleaning of the far back of the kitchen cabinets and behind the sofas. “Win win”, as far as Carl and the guys were concerned.

Will got an extra kick out of watching his sister as a frenchified fuck-bunny, being bent over a couch by Marc, Troy, Aram or especially Carl while crying out “Zat’s de spot! ’Urry. ’Urry,” in ecstasy in Pepe La Pew-quality moans. He couldn’t touch her, but if he called in enough guys to keep her constantly booty busy, sooner or later a second maid would show up to take care of his epic stiffy. One time she was deep in wiping the back of a kitchen cupboard at Sheila’s, ass up and out, on her knees when Troy thrust in her, trapping her in with the pots and pans until he was satisfied. Will smiles and visits that memory every time she starts to yell at him for using all the hot water or drinking milk right out of the carton.

As Annette and the girls learned that “just hanging around” could lead to actually having to do house work, they started to make detailed plans for each day, even if it was simply writing in a diary that they were going to read a book or have a nap. Not that this always worked if it was done insincerely. But it did sometimes.

Just putting on the uniform isn’t enough to send Vicky into this state, she’d tried it when needing to do some cleaning of the apartment, and getting mindlessly horny and letting her body do the cleaning seemed to be preferable to boring routine of chores with a clear head, but no luck. Didn’t work then, didn’t work today. Still it always seemed to get a rise out of the guys.

“Russia or India?”

“I call India!” Vicky goes to change again. But first she brings out a couple of faux silk robes for the boys to slip on while she dresses—the advantage of having an import store is how easy it is to pick up clothing from around the world, and they’ve been using dressing her up as a memory trainer—Marc’s term, and it seems to work, along with some positive reinforcement sex to help her get an A, which in a different way is what both the guys want from her as well.

But they have agreed to wait for release until they are done, else it would never get finished. And this week would be a real tease, though they agreed to one break half way through.

India is special. She’s glad they chose it, though they have to march through reading about all those Czars first. She puts on a an extra layer of makeup, ankle and wrist bands with lots of costume jewelry, a fake nose stud, and a very transparent orange and purple sari and sandals.

She fakes a belly dance as she comes back in.

“That’s middle-east, not India,” Will points out, bending her over his lap. “Two points off for inaccuracy,” which he administered with a light swat on each chubby butt cheek. “Geography first this time.”

The study of Asia is followed by the first break in Vicky’s room. She blindfolds Will, leads him in, followed by Marc, then and spins him three times, raising and lowering his arm to show him the top and bottom of the poster in front of him. He unseeingly thrusts his right hand out to touch ahead, “Marc” then does the same with the left, “Me”, and then Vicky takes the strip of cloth off his eyes.

“I don’t think we’ve tried that one before,” Marc comments.

In front of Will is Andy’s multiple stick image vintage Kamasutra poster, and Will is pointing with his “Marc” hand to a position that involves more than a little gymnastic ability, and another that at least involves a different hole, to Vicky’s relief, though if she was asked, she’s game for a two in one... but this combination works well for three participants.

“I call middle,” Vicky jokes.

Vicky only recently realized just how flexible the Egg had made her, not simply agreeable and easy-going and super-suggestible, but physically too. In fact it first occurred the last time Marc, Will and her played the “Pin the Dick on the Vicky” Kamasutra poster game. That day on the third time through Marc had pushed her hard while hanging upside-down and split open, and her leg went sideways.

“Oh! Shit! Don’t move,” he carefully pulled out of her and then looks at the way her knee seems to go off kilter.

“Are you in pain? Geeze we need to get you to a hospital!”

She smiles at him, “Actually I feel ok. It’s weird, I mean it feels weird, but no pain.”

“You’re in shock, don’t move!”

“No I’m ok. Trust me. I just know this. I didn’t a minute ago, but I do now. Look,” and she reaches down and straightens her knee. It bends back in place. “The Egg called me flexible, and I guess I am. Like Gumby, bend and not break.”

“Trippy.”

They spend an hour or so testing her limits. Her favorite is legs spread slightly, bent completely backwards, so her thrown back head rests on her ass, while Marc pushes into her stretched belly and Will down her tightened throat. This brings her stretched nerves and sense glands extra pressure, which heightens her pleasure. There’s also something extra kinky about being folded up like an origami doll then fucked. And with a bit of pulling and tugging, the boys watched as she stuck her tongue deep into her own pussy, it took a bit of help from the guys to get there, but Marc and Will found it totally hot.

She asked them if they would suck themselves off if they could reach. After a few thoughtful seconds, and looking at her girlie cum-smeared face, they both admitted that they probably would at some point if they could. “Like a dog,” Marc reluctantly confessed.

After an uncomfortable silence, Marc changes the subject, “Hey, cheap travel. We could pack you up and mail you anywhere.”

“I’d still need to breathe. And be warm.”

“Oh yeah.”

After a few seconds of companionable silence, Will asks, “You from Ohio?”

“How did you guess? Do I have an accent?”

“Naw, it’s the poem:

The was an odd girl from Kent

Who could be peculiarly bent

We folded her double

and tickled her trouble

so instead of cumming, she went.”

Before starting again Vicky took some time to follow Betty’s instructions and make the paste and oil, while the boys watched. She’d redressed, this time as a geisha, naked under a powder blue smooth silk robe that caressed her with every move. She tied it loose, so that it gaped open and closed as she bent over the counter.

“What’s that?” Will asks.

“You’ll see.”

Marc, having already had a pretty happy experience today with these concoctions stiffens slightly at the smell, but he’s still recovering.

She sets them aside, and sits on Marc’s lap, “One more to review, then... I’ve something special for South America.”

Half an hour later she shows them what was in the package Marc brought.

“It’s tiny.”

“You couldn’t wear that on the beach here.”

She headed back to the bedroom to put on the Rio beachwear she ordered. She’d heard about it, but even when she ties the bottom and adjusts the top, it seems ridiculous. She goes to the closet to find her highest heeled shoes—if you are going to be over the top, be all out.

Humming The Girl from Ipinema she sashays back into the room, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. It has the desired effect, Will and Marc—who has spent the last few hours with the girl naked—well their eyes pop out of their heads, their jaws drop, and their dicks snap up like on high tension springs.

“Oh my god!”

“Like it?”

“Uh, it’s uh, like, uh, so hot. So so hot.”

There’s just enough fabric back and front to qualify as a bikini. There’s something about the cut, the way it shows off her most intimate curves that makes her sexier than simply being nude. Though the boys would agree that is pretty spectacular in itself.

Will is actually drooling. Vicky uses a finger to shut his jaw, “Study first. Argentina, Chile, Columbia, and Brazil,” and then sits on Marc’s lap. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. The potions on the counter and his own unwashed since dawn sweat gives a heady smell, the smell of warm afternoon sex.

It’s an almost complete distraction for the guys, they help her reread the morning’s lecture notes, but as study—well nothing but a write-off, though the reinforcement seems to help her concentration at crunch time—facts like main exports in Iberia come easily at test time if she associates them with, “Oh, I read that when Will started fingering me”.

She takes pity on their aching manhood, so they give up for the day and she lets them slather her in Betty’s oil and lick her all over. “It’s called ‘Going Around the World’” She pours some on Will’s dick and takes him in her mouth. She orgasmed at the combination of tastes. “This is dangerously good,” she thought while still soiling her bikini bottoms.

Will stripped her bare and carried her into the bedroom, thrusting deeply into her pussy from above. Marc tips the two over, laying the lovers on their sides, then oils up his rod and thrusts it up her bum, holding it in place as Will continues to work himself in and out.

Marc lets himself enjoy the pressure and release, Vicky’s thin membrane between the boys hides little of the sensation in their dicks rubbing. He drifts back, thinking that today he got a great hummer from his best friend’s mother and now here he was all the way up his boss’ girlfriend’s ass. And no one was going to come after him with a shotgun. Is this a great country or what!

Soon all three are spurting fluids all over each other, and then lie in contented but sticky heap.

Will closes his eyes, and asks, “You only bought one of those bikinis?”

She nods, then adds, “Well, there are some more being shipped to Andy’s store. They are in Milwaukee, should be delivered Monday or Tuesday. This is the sample, if I like it, I have to call to trigger the purchase.”

Marc is adamant, “You have to buy these! Call them today!”

Will added, “And we need them for Saturday. One for each of the women.”

Marc’s excited, “Can you imagine Saturday as all the girls come in dressed in one of these?” The three take a second to picture the scene, picturing each lady in turn, and they are stunned by the vision in their minds eyes, almost instantly both guys are rock hard again, and soon after Vicky has mounted the reclined Will while Marc rubs his wet willie between her tits while playing with her nips, then cuming on her face with gush after gush of his special seed.

While Vicky gets some damp towels to wipe everyone down, Will asked, “Can I go get them tomorrow for the weekend?”

“They’ll hold for pickup if I call. But it’s a two hour drive.”

Marc exclaimed, “Road trip!”

Vicky thinks to herself, “I can get men’s Brazil trunks from the same importer. If order some when I call the guys’ll have to put on a fashion show too. What sizes? Carl’ll never fit!”