The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

SOMEWHERE OVER COLORADO — JUNE 16, 10:00 AM MOUNTAIN TIME

Garrett Morley stretched in his airplane seat with the practiced, economical motions of a half-million-mile traveler. The trip from Chicago to Los Angeles was a quite important one for an executive VP of Marketing for the ProTekOmega Corporation, but secretly Morley felt that it shouldn’t be.

If his staff knew about some of ProTekOmega’s projects that were ... not available to the public, they wouldn’t be so stressed at this kind of Request For Proposal—they should be well in hand. ProTekOmega, by all rights, should be king of the world by now.

Unfortunately, some of his superiors on the Board didn’t seem to be focused on the business cases, and seemed more intent on using ProTekOmega as a personal playground. Not that he himself was above that—rank hath its privileges—but at least he tried to make a legitimate justification for use of still-precious ProTekOmega resources.

And as a result of the lack of high-level focus, ProTekOmega currently needed someone who was more … morally flexible. Someone willing to do what was necessary to get the job done. Someone who could let the Board pretend their hands were clean. Someone like Garrett.

Which left Garrett here, on a plane, making a final review of the proposal that his team would present tomorrow to a DEA task force in downtown LA. That contract would bolster ProTekOmega’s west coast presence and add enough to the bottom line to allow the board to continue their ... indulgences. For another quarter, at least.

It was a good proposal, and had a fair chance of winning the bid straight up. Santa Monica based Alcantra were the only real competition, and even with their advantage in local knowledge and their carefully established base of contacts, Garrett felt their position was vulnerable. He’d sent a “tiger team” in advance of his arrival to prepare the groundwork and work with the local ProTekOmega operatives.

But there was one more thing Garrett needed to make this work—and it was time for him to call in his own ace in the hole. One that he had established long ago, in anticipation of exactly this situation.

The MYG protocol had never failed him before. He was one of only six people in the company who knew anything more about it than the name, outside the Board. He didn’t know all the details—for operational security, no one person did—but he knew enough.

MYG involved some proprietary drug treatments, ASMR therapy, and some particularly odd psychological theories they’d managed to keep out of publication. The result was a matrix of suggestions, desires, personality traits, and imperatives that, when triggered, would overlay the subject’s existing personality and transform it. The results were … sometimes subtle, sometimes spectacular. The implanted suggestions were internalized, accepted by the subject as their own thoughts and desires. In a few extreme cases, it had even resulted in creation of a new identity.

Right now, MYG was his secret weapon. It couldn’t be used on the customer, for obvious reasons. But Garrett, as he had in number of times in the past, had another plan in mind.

Corporate America had always used people up, Garrett reflected. It was just that most corporations couldn’t do the things they could do.

His opposite number from Alcantra was a nebbish named Clark Perkins. Garrett had met him at a few networking events, and never really liked the man. ProTekOmega operatives had had Clark and his family under surveillance for ages, long since identifying all of them as prime targets for MYG.

Morley had an extensive dossier on the Perkins family in his briefcase. Clark himself was a weak man, at the edge of his competence. His wife was shrewish and repressed, and their marriage wasn’t going well. Their daughter was dangerously close to failing out of college.

Clark was perfect. Just a little nudge, and he would decant everything he knew about Alcantra’s plans, including the latest numbers. Cut him out of the preparations, and the advantage would swing decisively to Garrett.

His family were not necessary to this plan. But rank hath its privileges, and man does not live by bread alone. All work and no play makes Garrett a dull boy. ProTekOmega didn’t pay him as much as they did for him to be the good guy.

Now it was time to make the call.

Morley activated the in-flight phone with his platinum AMEX card, and leaned back in his seat. After a few seconds, a connection was established. Morley said “Ah, Perkins. So good to talk to you...”

PERKINS RESIDENCE, MALIBU — JUNE 16, 8:00 AM PACIFIC TIME

Clark Perkins stared intently at the coffee maker, keeping it from finishing the pot. It hadn’t been a good night—too many nerves about the upcoming presentation—and he knew that the coffee would just make it worse, giving him a burst of energy for a few hours before leaving him nauseous and dehydrated by afternoon.

But it was a trade-off he was willing to make. As the Alcantra Inc. associate VP for marketing, he was overseeing his team’s final preparations for the Big Sale. Finally, the in to sweet, sweet government contracts that he and a number of associates had spent years cultivating. And the tech boys had finally come through with something that looked, well, promising. If they could just get in the door, pushing aside ProTekOmega, the school bully, that would give the boffins time to work out the bugs...

The first bound copy of the presentation was already in his briefcase. Along with a large packet of supporting data provided by research in case they needed an answer in a hurry during the questioning session afterward. Two binders representing years of work and investment into his company’s future.

The waffle maker hummed quietly on the counter beside him. As usual, he was the early riser, the industrious one of the family, who got most of the meals on the table. Nonfat Greek yogurt was on ice and Clark had set out peanut butter to go with toast, all for his wife Sarah, who was as always concerned about her curvy figure, as she had been since she had reached forty. Healthy cereal, iced organic milk, and fresh apricots were set out in the forlorn hope that it would tempt his daughter Kimberley to eat something healthy for a change.

The family cat stretched in her place on the dining room floor, watching unimpressed.

Then, a twenty-year-old feminine tornado in a short, pink and white striped sweater dress flew down the main staircase and swept into the kitchen just as the waffle maker dinged its readiness. Clark barely had time to register that the stretchy knit material was clinging far too tightly to Kimberley’s young figure to be proper for her college classes—and that the hemline was dangerously close to being as high as mid-thigh. Also, the neckline was disapprovingly low, easily far enough to distract her college-age classmates—Clark couldn’t be sure, but it might even be exposing the straps of her brassiere.

Clark realized, not for the first time, that he really should put his foot down, someday.

Her long, dark brown hair flying behind her, Kimberley deftly grabbed herself a fresh waffle along with a kitchen towel to carry it with. With a practiced flip of her hair, she met Clark’s eyes over her shoulder and said with faux sincerity “Sorry, Dad—can’t stay for breakfast, my ride is here.”

As Kimberley flittered on into the entry foyer and the front door, Clark noticed for the first time that the dress she was wearing was actually cut quite short, leaving more athletic young leg exposed than he had realized. As she exited, he followed at a discreet distance and peered out the sidelight, down the drive towards the highway, where his daughter’s “ride”—a goateed young man wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt—was waiting on a motor scooter. Clark obviously couldn’t hear what they said when she got to him, but from the boy’s body language, it was obvious that he was twisted around Kimberley’s finger. With a somber feeling of recognition, he suddenly realized that his beloved daughter was probably “putting out”. Waffle in hand, Kimberley straddled the bike on the seat behind her entranced boyfriend, showing off tanned leg all the way up. The pair then sped off towards Blaine College.

In a suddenly more somber mood, Clark returned to the kitchen, and noticed that the coffee maker had finally decided that it was done. He plated the orphaned waffle alongside some of his daughter’s abandoned cereal—waste not, want not—grabbed a cup of the belated coffee, and sat down at the breakfast bar. He checked traffic on his phone for the fourth time this morning—he still had twenty minutes or so before he had to head down the coastal highway to HQ in Santa Monica.

After a bit, Clark heard his wife Sarah come downstairs and enter the dining area. The waves of her light brown hair were held away from one ear to accommodate her phone, on which she was already talking animatedly with her office. She was, as always, dressed professionally—impeccably so. She wore a turquoise jacket with a hint of retro shoulder pads. It was carefully fitted to contain her magnificent bust while accentuating her still-narrow waist. Sarah’s favorite fleur-de-lys pendant, contrasting with her tanned skin, was displayed at her neck above her primly buttoned-up lavender blouse. A near knee-length brown skirt that hugged her generous hips completed the ensemble. She looked stunning. As always. And highly professional. As always.

Still engrossed with the work conversation, Sarah proceeded into the kitchen. When she saw what was set out for her on the counter, Clark saw her literally facepalm. Finally acknowledging his existence, Sarah looked at Clark, gestured at the yogurt with her free hand, then at the phone, and finally rolled her eyes. With that free hand, she picked up the toast and strode out past Clark towards the front door, hardly missing a beat in her conversation.

A few moments after she disappeared from view, Clark heard some fumbling at the front door punctuated by a frustrated “OOOOOOH!” from Sarah. Then steps fading away followed by her car starting and speeding up the drive with a squeal of tires. She had left the closing of the door to him.

A typical morning so far. He trudged back inside and cleared off the useless breakfast dishes. Then he filled a thermos with the remaining coffee and threw on his jacket before grabbing his laptop and briefcase and proceeding to his Audi S8 sedan, waiting in the drive.

As he proceeded down the coast highway in a somber mood, the car’s command console displayed an incoming call. He pressed “answer” and said “Hello?” when the device connected.

The voice on the end was somehow familiar but Clark couldn’t immediately place it. “Ah, Perkins. Good to talk to you,” the voice began. “This is Garrett Morley. I require your service. I’ll be landing at LAX in ... one hour. You can pick me up at the United terminal.”

Clark was jolted. He drove on autopilot for a few seconds while his thoughts reconfigured themselves.

The Master of the House was in town! Good thing Clark was already on the highway. An hour wasn’t really enough time to make it from his house all the way to LAX, and it wouldn’t do to keep the Master of the House waiting.

“Of course, sir,” he said simply, and hung up the connection.

PROTEKOMEGA CORPORATION LOS ANGELES OFFICE — JUNE 16, 11:00 AM PACIFIC TIME

In the second topmost floor of ProTekOmega’s Los Angeles office, the larger of the high tech company’s executive conference rooms was in barely concealed uproar. The regional director, his staff, and a few high-level number crunchers were deep in discussion of the presentation for the next day, and the prospects didn’t look as good as they’d like them to be. Alcantra held all the cards, and opinion was strongly divided—if they went too low with the bid, the bottom line would make the contract worse than useless, but if they went too high, Alcantra would just slide in with all the advantages they had in place. They only had a few hours left to amend the final proposal, and no agreement on strategy was forthcoming.

At that point, the conference room door burst open, and Garrett Morley swung confidently into the room, bearing Clark Perkins’s briefcase. The briefcase—the stolen crown jewels, the focus of the whole operation. The reason Garrett was here in the first place. Well, one of them. The most important, at least as far as ProTekOmega was concerned. It contained all of Alcantra’s secrets.

The conversation halted immediately. As Morley strode to the conference table, everyone in the room—both his own team and the locals who had never seen Morley before—stared. They were frozen in place, the previous discussion forgotten.

“Are you my team or just a team picture?” Garrett asked the stunned staff rhetorically, as he put the briefcase down on the conference table. With a flourish, he undid the clasps, opened the briefcase, and turned away dramatically, a triumphant smile on his face.

After a few surprised, silent moments, the head of procurement, a slim, attractive blonde in a medium gray skirt suit, gathered up enough nerve and presence of mind to get up and look into the exposed contents. “This is Alcantra’s proposal?” she said disbelievingly. “The one they’re presenting tomorrow? Their biggest secret?”

“Very good, Angela darling,” Morley said warmly before continuing without turning around. “It’s accurate as of first thing this morning, and they won’t know it’s gone until just about .. well... now. They don’t know it’s us who have it. And it’s too late to redo the bound copies if they do change anything.”

“Where did you get that?” the regional director asked, incredulous.

Garrett just grinned. “Do you really want to know?” he replied simply.

Garrett’s reputation for having no scruples when getting the job done had preceded him. The regional director considered the rascally “company representative” in front of him, and recalled some of the wilder rumors about previous jobs Morley had taken on. Then he swallowed, and bravely changed the subject. “This isn’t the only copy. They have backups,”

Morley wheeled on him. “Not current. I’ve made sure of that. The most recent numbers are gone. And they won’t be able to recreate them exactly in the time they have left. But we do have them. Right here.”

Back at the briefcase, Ms. Angela was already flipping through its contents. “This is a gold mine,” she exclaimed. “Brock. Mark. Other Mark. Come here to me. We need to plug this into our models. Stat.”

Morley just looked at his head of procurement expectantly. “We’ll have you a new proposal within, umm, two hours?” she promised.

“Don’t let me detain you,” Garrett said, although the fondness in his voice took any sting out of the words.

As Ms. Angela rushed out of the room clutching the briefcase, with her number-crunchers in tow, Garrett stared narrowly at the regional director. “I like you, Hal,” he said, “But you need to have more confidence in your game.” And he strode out of the room without further comment.

Garrett then found himself a guest office—not on the top floor with the executive drones, but down in the guts of the building where the real work was done. He’d left Clark down in the car. Theoretically, the man had a comprehensive knowledge of the Alcantra proposal, and could be a valuable asset—but while the ProTekOmega MYG protocol had made him significantly more ... pliable, it had also mostly divorced him from much of his detailed knowledge of his former life.

And in any case, they had the magic briefcase. As the day went on, Garrett worked with Ms. Angela’s team, refining the ProTekOmega proposal based on what they found in the binders that had been inside. Not just the final proposed contract figures, but all the data that had been used to calculate them was now at the team’s fingertips.

While Alcantra had certainly realized hours ago the position they were in, the detailed knowledge of Clark’s latest work was allowing ProTekOmega to tune the final numbers. And Alcantra, if anything, would end up worse off as they made their adjustments without any knowledge of the position they were unwittingly in.

Now Garrett’s plan was fully in motion. There wasn’t really anything more he could do here to help. And he had business elsewhere. Hands-on business...

OUTSIDE PROTEKOMEGA CORPORATION LOS ANGELES OFFICE — JUNE 16, 4:00 PM PACIFIC TIME

Clark pulled up outside the Headquarters office in the Perkins family’s sedan, promptly within a few minutes of Garrett’s call summoning him from the parking structure. Garrett reflected that Clark made a much better driver than he ever had an executive. Probably a better butler, too. They’d find that out soon enough. Garrett smiled at the thought.

His team was going to burn the midnight oil working out scenarios and arguing over spreadsheets. There would be time to review the final proposal in the morning—Ms. Angela would take care of supervising the team as they worked. Her life was—mostly—focused on her work.

In any case, Garrett himself was a fixer, not a worker bee. He had done his part so far, and would be there in the end to assure success.

As the car drove off towards the bungalow where the Perkins family lived—where Garrett was going to stay overnight as well—in the back seat Garrett cracked the dossier on the women of the family.

Clark’s wife Sarah was a bit of a prude. She still took care with her appearance, dressing flattering if professionally and keeping her still very attractive body in excellent physical shape. But she had buried herself into her work the past few years, and seemed to have locked away her sexual side. And Clark wasn’t exactly the man to bring that side out, in any case. But the MYG protocol was just the thing to unleash whatever was waiting behind her shell of professionalism. The need for fun and sexy times seemed to be something that Sarah had filed away. Time to unleash that and see what might happen...

Clark’s daughter Kimberley was still living at home despite being a student at a local college. She had discovered college boys, and from the way she was usually dressed in the surveillance photos, they had certainly discovered her. Her social life was taking its toll on her grades. Maybe she needed more focus in her sex life, one man she could concentrate on, letting her save the extra energy for classwork?

In any case, the operatives had completed their tasks the previous week. Now it was time for Garrett to see what the MYG protocol had accomplished this time. This was the fun part of the job.

PERKINS RESIDENCE, MALIBU — JUNE 16, 5:00 PM PACIFIC TIME

Clark pulled the sedan up the drive and parked near the front door of the Perkins Malibu bungalow. While Morley climbed out of the back, Clark bustled around to the trunk to grab Morley’s carry-on bag in order to take the items inside along with the pair.

Clark unlocked the door and waited for Morley to precede him inside. Which was appropriate—after all, he was Master of the house, wasn’t he?

“Clark?” came Sarah’s voice from deeper inside the house.

In a few moments, a shapely mature woman entered the foyer, a glass of wine in her hand. Having only expected her husband, she stopped, standing stiffly, at the edge of the entry area when she saw he had another man with him. She sized the visitor up. Tall, fit, medium length iron-gray hair combed back, piercing dark green eyes, suit well-tailored but not flashy. Like a more handsome version of her husband.

Garrett surveyed the vision in front of him. He’d seen pictures, of course, but in the flesh Sarah had even more of an impact. Her light brown hair flowed in rich waves past her shoulders. Impressive breasts strained within a rich lavender blouse, the top button undone to show off a filigreed silver pendant dangling from a simple silver chain. Her brown leopard print pencil skirt was high-waisted and profoundly professional, but couldn’t hide her athletic legs. The hemline covered up the top of stockings in a tan color very close to that of her delectable skin. The skirt hugged Sarah’s shapely hips perfectly to emphasize her hourglass figure.

“You brought a guest, Clark? Without calling?” Sarah inquired caustically. “Are we expected to dress for dinner, too?”

“Of course. It’s the...” Clark started, then trailed off quizzically. Why was she asking?

“I mean, he’s... He’s... You know...” Clark continued vaguely. Then he had an inspiration. “He’s Garrett Morley.” Clark smiled at the Mistress of the house, happy to have worked out a satisfactory bit of logic. He then ducked back out the front door to retrieve the rest of the Master’s luggage from the trunk of the car.

“And who is Garrett Morley?” Sarah inquired sardonically, glaring narrowly at the visitor standing in her foyer.

Garrett forced his appreciative gaze from Sarah’s sensual hips, up past her flat belly and marvelously pneumatic breasts to meet her gaze. He crossed the space between them in three decisive steps, leather soles clicking loudly on the hardwood floor of the cavernous entryway. Sarah’s right hand—the one without the wine glass—was at her side, and he reached out to grasp it. Sarah gave a soft gasp at the presumption. Undeterred, Morley confidently persevered and raised Sarah’s soft, tanned hand to his lips where he gave it a firm, dry kiss on the knuckles.

“It is my privilege to meet such a ravishing hostess. I am Garrett Morley. And I require your hospitality.” A particular phrase, in his particular voice.

Garrett grinned expectantly, watching Sarah’s eyes grow vacant for a second as the trigger phrase impacted her mind. As usual, it had taken quite a bit of arranging to get the unsuspecting Perkins family enrolled into the MYG protocol. Some referrals to complicit doctors. Some black ops skullduggery.

But this wasn’t their first rodeo, and soon enough the practiced team had managed to get it done. So that trigger phrase, spoken by him and only him in his unique voice, had activated triggers lying in wait inside Sarah’s mind. New loyalties, new attitudes, new preferences—were all flooding out of hiding and washing over her mind.

“Hospitality...” she echoed.

“That’s right, darling. Hospitality.”

“Darling?” she asked quizzically “Darling,” she repeated, tasting the word.

Sarah’s face lit up and she met Garrett’s eyes again with an alluring smile as she decided that, coming from him, “Darling” tasted good. It was good to be complimented, she thought. All around the edges of Sarah’s personality, little details were rewriting themselves. Experienced with the effects of the MYG protocol, Garrett could see the changes in her eyes as they refocused on his.

“That’s my beautiful little vixen,” Garrett said as he smiled back at the ravishing woman.

“Garrett!”

“You like being complimented,” Garrett overrode her objection, his voice firm and commanding. “Don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Sarah’s expression became unsure as new thoughts warred with old habits. Her body was quite sure, though. Sarah smiled fetchingly and tilted one hip invitingly. “I think it’s a wonderful compliment.”

At that moment, Clark came back inside with two black suitcases that tastefully matched the carry-on already on the hardwood floor and placed them beside it with some difficulty.

“You brought suitcases?” Sarah asked, smile fading slightly.

“It appears, my dear, that I am going to be your guest for the night,” Morley replied. He put a slight emphasis on the last three words.

Sarah thought for a second, then: “Well, of course you are, Garrett,” she replied with a flip of her head that caused brown waves of hair to toss fetchingly.

“Now, Clark, be a darling and take our guest’s things upstairs. Then get dinner started—I’m going to have some drinks with our guest in the occasional bar and talk to him about his day.” Garrett smirked—Sarah was now welcoming him into her house as if she’d thought of it herself.

Clark sighed quietly but didn’t complain. Of course, he would do so. The Master of the house was here. He picked up the suitcases again and started towards the stairs—and the master bedroom.

“Right this way,” Sarah said, and turned to walk towards the hallway, giving Garrett a clear view of her exquisitely curvaceous buttocks on display in the tight patterned skirt. They swayed nicely as she sauntered across the floor.

“Right after you, gorgeous.” Garrett answered with a smile of his own as he followed her down the short hallway into a comfortable, somewhat intimate room with a bar and stools, bar table, a fashionable couch, and a couple of comfortable chairs that were each detached on their own. He carefully left the door somewhat ajar.

The fun part of the evening was just beginning.

Morley knew that alcohol would help enhance Sarah’s ... initial receptivity to the MYG inner directives ... and help set her new thinking patterns firmly in place. But MYG was primarily self-reinforcing—it wasn’t precisely mind control as such—and working with some of Sarah’s new interests was going to be a lot more fun than mere alcohol.

So he beat her to the punch, as it were, and walked confidently to the bar. “Allow me. You’ve had a hard day, too, beautiful. And you need to relax,” he opened with a smile. Answering the smile, Sarah sat at the table and finished the wine she’d been carrying since before they’d met. She crossed her long legs artfully, showing off the tan stockings and teasing the possibility of viewing their lacy tops.

Garrett, with practiced motions, mixed two martinis—one of them, for Sarah, was very dry, and the other that he kept for himself was very wet. He wanted to keep a clear head.

Garrett took the drinks over to the table, placed the dry martini in front of Sarah, and sat down across from her. Lifting his drink, he toasted “To my lovely hostess. Enjoy.” He always enjoyed the process of testing the limits at this point in the seduction process.

“Enjoy,” Sarah echoed, and took a healthy sip, not particularly noticing the alcohol.

“Good girl,” Garrett whispered, meeting Sarah’s eyes over their drink glasses. He could tell that those blue eyes were no longer certain.

“So why are you in town?” Sarah asked.

“Business,” Garrett replied. “You know how it is—work, work, work all the time. It’s so important to relax.”

“I need to relax,” Sarah muttered under her breath.

“And smile,” Garrett continued. “With a pretty face like yours, you should always be smiling.” Almost unconsciously, Sarah brightened up. She was starting to feel strange, like she hadn’t felt recently, at least not at home. It felt good.

Garrett couldn’t stop himself from looking down at the magnificent breasts and luscious legs of his captivated hostess. His penis began to swell with desire. Time for another test. To push her boundaries a little further.

“Isn’t it hot in here?” Garrett asked guilelessly.

Sarah thought about it for a second. Something in the back of her mind warned her that she was becoming intimate with Garrett rather quickly. He was masterfully controlling the situation, and she was just following in his wake, a step behind.

But then she looked at him more closely. The alcohol and the masculinity of the man next to her were having an effect on her, heating her up in a way that wasn’t due to the late-afternoon sun. Her temperature was definitely rising. “Yeah,” she replied, and opened another button on her blouse, revealing a deep valley of cleavage and the edges of her robins-egg blue bra. Then she drained the rest of her martini.

“Look at you,” Garrett said thickly. “You’re quite the temptress. Showing off your titties.”

Sarah just glared at him, and tried to summon up anger at Garrett’s stepping over so many lines. Instead, she stubbornly undid yet another button with an peevish flip of her light brown hair.

As the button popped free, Sarah considered what she was doing. As she’d noticed before, things were going awfully fast. But it seemed right. He was a confident man, and she was a beautiful woman. It was right for her to feel desire for him. That was just how things went naturally, was it?

Pleased to have worked that out, Sarah replied with a seductive smile. “Call me what you like.” Her nipples were hardening inside her bra, becoming more sensitive. Sarah gave a tiny gasp as her fingers accidentally brushed one responsive tip.

Garrett’s penis lengthened further at the beautiful mature wife’s acquiescence. He was semi-hard now. She was responding to him now, and no longer had any instinct for resistance.

“You’re a very sexy woman, Sarah,” Garrett continued. “You have an amazing body. You should show it off more.”

A spark of spirit asserted itself in Sarah’s expression. “I’m not that kind of a girl,” Sarah replied, with a flip of her brown hair. Inside, though, she was distracted by her warring thoughts.

“Aren’t you, though? You’re still here, after all,” Garrett said in a salacious tone. His lustful gaze swept up and down the sexy shape of Sarah’s body, lingering on her superb breasts.

“Am I that naughty after all?” Sarah asked herself. She had to admit that she was flattered by the boldness of Garrett’s appraisal. There was something about the look in his eyes that made her want to show off for him. Something about him brought that sexual side out of her. He was used to being in control of a situation, and something inside her was responding to that. It felt good, and normal, to just let him have that control.

The obvious lust in Garrett’s eyes was exciting Sarah, along with his command of the situation. The heat in her body had spread downward, and she could tell that she had become damp between her legs. Unbidden, her hands came up to her blouse and undid the remaining buttons.

Sarah knew that her full, pneumatic breasts were now wholly in Garrett’s view, her bra exposing ripe flesh and doing nothing to hide her erecting nipples and swollen areolae. She was breathing more heavily now, which just made her breasts jiggle alluringly.

Sarah could practically feel the hunger in Garrett’s gaze as his eyes drank in the view of her exposed brassiere.

“Very good, Sarah. They’re very beautiful. You’re quite a desirable woman. You should be proud of your figure. You should flaunt it.”

Garrett stood, picked up their glasses and returned to the bar to refresh the drinks. This was working as well as he could have expected.

Sarah continued to sit as if deep in thought. Her hands fluttered to the collar of her lavender blouse then dropped back down to the table in front of her. After a couple of moments, she slipped the blouse off her shoulders, let it slide to the floor, and tossed her hair. Garrett exulted. He was home free now.

Garrett brought the drinks back to the table. “Here you go, baby doll,” he said. “Don’t you feel better now? This is what you should be. Captivating men with your charms. A little slutty. How does being so nasty make you feel?”

“It’s too hot in here,” Sarah said, flushed.

Garrett noticed that she hadn’t answered the question.

“It is hot in here. It’s you. You’re hot. Really hot,” Garrett said. “Show me those titties you’ve been hiding.”

At the impertinence of the blunt request, Sarah’s reserved self-control flared up and she glared at Garrett. “Behave yourself. You’re a guest,” she said.

Garrett knew that Sarah had barely been able to stop herself from doing whatever he asked.“Just do it, honey,” he purred, knowing that he was in a dominant position now. He pressed his advantage, asserting his dominance over the entranced businesswoman. “Show them to me, baby doll.”

Garrett could see conflict in Sarah’s eyes as his tone hit Sarah’s befuddled mind with an almost physical impact, and she responded almost instinctively. Garrett saw her eyes refocus on his. There was no longer any war going on behind them.

She finished her drink, then stood up beside the table and met Garrett’s eyes. She reached behind herself and unfastened the catch to her brassiere. Then she deftly swept the robins-egg blue fabric away and dropped it on the floor with one hand. Her magnificent teardrop breasts tumbled out and into Garrett’s sight for the first time.

They were truly amazing. Pale by comparison to her tanned neck and shoulders, Sarah’s full breasts hung round and amazingly firm for a woman with a daughter in college. Sarah’s nipples were heart-stopping, firm and rose-pink, almost the size of a thumbtip in their stiffness. The hard nubs were perfectly set off by pale champagne areolae. Which were not too large—small, tight, and crinkly.

Garrett drank in the vision—her body was more amazing than he could have hoped. Unprompted, Sarah smiled at Garrett’s obvious delight.

“Truly stunning, Sarah,” Garrett said her name for the first time. “I love seeing your body. It arouses me. I can see it arouses you.”

Although the praise was almost physically pleasant, Sarah hesitated fractionally. “I’m not aroused,” she said. “We are both just mature adults. Who are having an innocent drink.” But then Sarah’s body demonstrated a mind of its own, and she gave her chest a little shake, belying her self-confident words. Her magnificent boobs jiggled sensually for Garrett’s lustful gaze.

With that indication that Sarah’s attitude had shifted far enough, Garrett confidently went for the prize. “Aren’t you ready for more?”

From somewhere deep down, a last wave of hesitation rose in Sarah’s mind. “Please. I’m not sure I want...”

Garrett polished off his own drink. “Nobody’s going to make you do anything, honey.”

Garrett then stood up to face Sarah. He reached out, grasped her hand, and used it to spin the submissive mature woman around so that her naked back was pressed heatedly against him. He hugged her close, hands wrapping around her supple waist and firm belly.

Swept away by his dominant personality, Sarah just relaxed in his arms. “Oh my God,” Sarah moaned. “Why can’t I resist you?”

Garrett reached up to lift the waves of light brown hair away from one ear, and bent down to vacuum his lips against her neck. Then he stroked her neck with his tongue and worked his way up to the tender spot behind her ear. Sarah murmured with pleasure. She had always been sensitive there, and it had been ages since anyone had kissed her this way. Her vulva felt delightfully slick inside her panties.

Garrett couldn’t wait any longer. He’d been admiring Sarah’s magnificent tits since the moment they’d met, and now he had to possess them. Garrett trailed his hands up Sarah’s sleek belly to finally cup the breathless woman’s gorgeous breasts. She let out a soft cry as he tweaked her swelling nipples. Garrett massaged the heavy globes, reveling in their fullness. They were not youthfully firm, but still amazingly supple. He then began to alternate how he teased those breasts, one moment pinching and stroking the rigid nipples, the next firmly but gently massaging and kneading the mounds of titflesh.

Soon, he hopelessly aroused Sarah was panting and whimpering. Her nipples had always had a direct connection to her clitoris. Garrett’s caressing hands and tweaking fingers were sending tingles straight down there. She shivered at the pleasurable sensation, fetching shudders rippling down her pneumatic form.

Garrett whispered in Sarah’s ear, “Who do you belong to?”

Sarah let out another little whimper of excitement but didn’t respond with words. Garrett grinned. The fiercely independent professional woman he had read about in the dossier—who he had met just the previous hour—would have castigated him for the liberties he was taking with her luscious body. A fiercely passionate new Sarah had taken over.

“Sarah. You will be mine. Tonight and every night.” Garrett quoted impudently, recognizing that the mature woman was already responding to his dominance.

With practiced fingers, he found the zipper on Sarah’s patterned skirt and drew it down all the way. Then he eased the brown patterned fabric down Sarah’s voluptuous hips to pool at her feet, leaving her magnificent body decorated in only light tan stockings and thong panties that matched her discarded light blue bra.

Garrett’s hands began to stroke the smooth flesh of her thighs at the top of her stockings, so close to her moist labia and boiling vagina. Murmurs of pleasure escaped Sarah’s lips at the sensation. The mature man was assuredly attending to Sarah’s heated body, and she was giving him free rein to do so.

Garrett was still whispering, “You want to be taken. To surrender.”

There was something about the sound of Garrett’s voice. The masculinity, the assuredness. With a wordless cry, Sarah spun around in Garrett’s arms and kissed him full on the lips. When he returned the kiss with passionate ardor, drawing the breath out of her, Sarah shivered with excitement. The ferocity of his lovemaking was seductive, drawing her in to his power. She eagerly sucked his tongue into her mouth.

Garrett found himself with his hands now grasping Sarah’s amazing ass. So he began to caress along the way up and down her delightfully generous buttocks, which were completely exposed by her narrow panties. His fingers reached into the junction of Sarah’s thighs to touch the soaking strip of cloth there from behind and caress the flesh beneath. Sarah began to pant into his mouth, her tongue dueling with his.

After a few minutes of intense necking, Garrett broke off. He didn’t want to part from the sizzlingly passionate woman for even a moment, but there were too many clothes between them. He quickly removed his shirt and tie, reveling in the breathlessly aroused woman’s gaze. “You do the slacks,” he urged.

Sarah didn’t even hesitate, long past any thought of resistance to Garrett’s desires. Although they had just been having innocent drinks minutes before, she was practically naked now, and she was actively removing his clothes as well. But somehow it all felt perfectly natural.

Garrett was always amazed by these transformations. Sarah had been so repressed and proper, even conservative in some ways, but somehow he had managed to awaken a rich vein of passion that she’d buried deep inside herself over the past years. Her body and mind were both now unthinkingly obedient to her desires. And to his. Sarah was a passionate woman—and as a woman her ardor, now properly stimulated, would control her desires from here on.

Sarah knelt before Garrett and undid his belt. When she pulled the slacks down his athletic hips, his proud erection appeared right in front of her eyes, barely contained in his boxer briefs. “Oh my,” Sarah whispered. She had been expecting his organ to mostly flop around—like most she had seen since her younger days—but he was already mostly hard. Sarah felt somehow complimented by that.

He was big—not huge like a porn star, not really—but much bigger than she had seen in years. Not the longest, or the thickest, that she had ever known, but the longest and thickest for decades now. Even concealed by his briefs, it looked like it was designed to pleasure a woman, to fill and stimulate her vagina utterly. Her nipples hardened further, almost painfully erect now.

Sarah stared at Garrett’s imperious pole for a few seconds, transfixed. Then she shook her head to clear it, fetchingly tossing the waves of light brown hair over her shoulders, before pulling the slacks down all the way. After a few moments of uncertainty with Garrett’s patent leather shoes, he stepped out of the slacks and they were pooled on the floor next to her discarded clothing.

At Garrett’s murmured encouragement, Sarah reached up and pulled Garrett’s boxer briefs down. Freed, his steel-hard cock sprung out, pulsing in rhythm with Garrett’s heartbeat. Sarah was captivated by the sight. Her eyes almost crossed, it was so close to her face. Keeping her eyes focused on the impressively stiff organ, Sarah pulled the unneeded briefs down Garrett’s slender but muscular legs. She then traced her fingertips back up his calves and thighs, never losing sight of the erection in front of her. It dominated her vision. It dominated her thoughts. It dominated her mind. She couldn’t look away. It looked wonderfully masculine. It smelled wonderfully masculine.

Sarah realized the scenario she was playing out. She was a beautiful woman, practically naked, on her knees at the feet of a dominant man with a powerful erection. She knew how this was going to end. But despite how fast Garrett’s confident seduction of her had proceeded, her body and mind were ready for whatever he wanted. She hadn’t been this ready in years.

Back in the kitchen, Clark surveyed his domain. Dinner was proceeding splendidly.

The Master of the House was mostly moved in to the master bedroom—Clark had arrayed most of the Master’s clothing in the closet and dressers, but some of the Master’s clothes would still need to be pressed and others would need to be cleaned. It would not be an early night.

But for now, dinner was almost ready. Time to let the household know.

Clark proceeded quietly down the short hallway to the bar. He could no longer hear the quiet conversation from earlier through the half-open door. He paused, suddenly not sure whether to knock first. But that was a silly thought—he was here on household business in any case. He opened the door the rest of the way, and in the room was an unexpectedly erotic tableau profiling the room’s two occupants.

As was his right, the Master of the house was being pleasured by his Mistress. Garrett stood by the bar, completely naked. The Mistress, also nude but for her tan stockings and bluish thong, was kneeling before him, paying reverence to his obviously hard and effective organ with her hands and lips. The Master’s hands held and caressed a mass of the kneeling woman’s light brown hair, keeping her focused on her task. The Mistress’s head bobbed sexily as she made love to the dominant man, wet smacking noises coming from her actively working mouth.

The penitent mature woman was obviously loving her submissive role in the sex act, servicing the self-assured man standing before her. The hand that wasn’t working in close conjunction with her lovely lips was wrapped around the Master’s athletic backside. Her full, ripe breasts betrayed her arousal, her hard and stiff nipples standing a full half inch from her pink areolae. As Clark watched, the Mistress took the tip of the Master’s penis into her mouth. Then she moaned around it in fulfillment, the expression on her face adoring. This was followed by sloppy noises as the assured older man’s strong hand on top of the kneeling woman’s hair began to assuredly guide her motions.

The Master of the house spoke for the first time. “That’s right, you little minx. Keep it up. You love this, don’t you?”

“MMmmph,” the Mistress’s reply was muffled by the Master’s penis. “It’s gud.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you nasty girl,” Garrett leered. “You might get fed, and I have more plans for you right now.” His hand atop the kneeling Mistress’s hair was just resting now, no longer urging her on.

The adoring Mistress popped her mouth off of the Master’s cock. That organ stood hard and firm, inches from her face. It was big but not extreme, longer than most, but in particular somewhat thick. She unwound her hand from around the Master’s waist to wrap her fingers around the base of the proud shaft. “Oooooh,” she sighed as she looked up to passionately meet his eyes. “That sounds dirty...”

“You want it dirty, don’t you? I’m going to fuck you, right here and now,” Garrett’s voice deepened and thickened. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“Oh, yes. I want it so badly. I’m yours. I’m so ready for you,” the Mistress was almost babbling as she confirmed her desires.

“Then come here to me,” the Master of the House said, triumphantly, to his conquest. He held his hands out to the mature woman kneeling in front of him.

Clark realized that he was intruding although neither of the passionate couple had noticed. As the scene promised to become even more intimate, he bowed himself silently out of the room. It was for the best that Kimberley wasn’t home yet, as it looked like dinner would be delayed.

Back in the bar, Garrett and Sarah now stood by the stylish midnight blue wood-framed couch, joined in a tight embrace. Their mouths were locked smoothly together, tongues probing. Garrett silently exulted—his conquest was so close. He would enjoy this fabulous body thoroughly over the next few days. And he would enjoy the enthusiasm she was bringing to their passion. But right now, his cock was throbbing with readiness. He simply had to fuck this woman, now.

Garrett broke the embrace, but only to dip his head down to hoover in the nipple on one flawless teardrop breast.

Sarah gasped as his lips and tongue stimulating the inflamed nubbin caused a bolt of lightning to travel straight down to her clitoris. His other hand reached up to caress the other, neglected, heavy breast. Her rounded hips were writhing helplessly with pleasure.

Switching breasts to catch the other swollen nipple gently in his teeth, Garrett looked up to catch Sarah’s gaze but she was too far gone with lust, her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her face. It was time. Kissing her flat belly along the way, pausing to tongue her cute navel, Garrett sank to his knees.

Sarah’s thong was a mere triangle of robins-egg blue fabric held in place by a slender band of lacy filigreed material. The gusset was clinging to her sensitized pussy, now humid with her sex juices. Assuredly, Garrett slid his thumbs into the narrow strap and drew the band off Sarah’s shapely hips, the damp fabric peeling away to expose Sarah’s aroused lower lips. Smoothly, Garrett drew the garment down over Sarah’s silky, lightly tanned thighs. When the fabric passed Sarah’s knees, Garrett released the flimsy material, letting it fall down and pool around her feminine ankles. Unbidden, she stepped out of her vagina’s former protection and was now completely bare to his thirsty gaze.

Sarah’s pubic hair was trimmed down to a light brown landing strip, with the intention of wearing daring underwear. The petals of her vulva were ready for sex, already glisteningly saturated but moistening still further at the very act of being so confidently stripped by the dominant older man. Her clitoris was a proud bulb of excitement. She was ready.

Sarah felt Garrett run his hands up her athletic thighs and give her full buttocks a firm squeeze. When he then used his lips and tongue gently on her swollen clitoral knob, Sarah shuddered with need. “Oh God,” she exclaimed, “I can’t resist you.”

Sarah’s eyes went unfocused, and for just a second impulses warred inside her head. Then she made a final decision. Sarah’s eyes cleared and the alluring smile returned to her kissable lips. “I need it. Come take me. Make me come. Make me yours.” Her hands, almost unconsciously, were gently squeezing her own generous breasts now. Her vagina was moist and eager in fevered anticipation.

Garrett sat down on the firm couch, and grasped Sarah’s hand to urge her to follow. She curled up in his lap like a cat, stockinged legs nestled to one side of him, as she eagerly kissed him again, all hesitation left behind in her excitement. Garrett fondled Sarah’s offered pneumatic breasts, their champagne-pink nipples swollen with need.

He looked up at Sarah’s flushed face. “Ride me,” he said simply, firm but quiet, “I want you to put me inside you.” He didn’t need to bark out commands, he knew. The sex-entranced woman would be motivated enough just by the sound of his voice at this point.

Things had moved so fast to get to this point, but Sarah’s body was in control now. Years of neglect fell away as Sarah climbed onto Garrett until she was kneeling astride him. “Oh yeah, baby,” Sarah exclaimed breathily, “I need it. I need you inside me.”

Sarah then reached down to grasp the firm pole of his erection and steer it towards her dripping labia. With a shimmy of her sensual hips, she made the hot connection, and the plum-shaped glans of Garrett’s penis finally opened her needy vulva. God, he was bigger than she had become accustomed to. Just the tip was in her vagina and it felt like she had a tennis ball inside her.

They both moaned as she put her hands on his shoulders for leverage and settled down.

Garrett wasn’t huge, but his penis was larger than any she’d touched since before her daughter was born. It had been that long since her inner muscles were stretched to this extent. Her vagina, however, hadn’t forgotten how to handle a real man’s shaft. Her slick channel gripped the firm length of his erection as it speared deep into her magnificent body, filling her completely.

Sarah’s sexy smile down at Garrett was somewhat stunned—as if she was surprised at how it all fit inside her so easily.

Garrett’s hands weren’t idle, caressing Sarah’s flanks and reaching up to fondle the fabulous teardrop titties hanging before him.

“Oh God. It feels so good,” she breathed. Garret’s penis was now bathed in her juices. Sarah raised herself so that only the tip was still inside her, then lowered all the way down until his pulsing erection filled her completely and her outer labia were kissing his hilt. Then, slowly, up and down, again, and again. Her lovely mouth fell open and let out a soft purr of excitement at the sensations that were taking her body over.

Sarah leaned back a little, moved her hands behind herself to rest on Garrett’s knees, and angled her hips to allow Garrett full thrusting access to her boiling vagina.

He didn’t hesitate upon seeing her invitation, taking command and pushing upward to slide his firm organ sweetly all the way into Sarah until the blunt dome found a home way up near her cervix. He was rewarded with a gasping “Oooh,” from the impaled Sarah, along with a full-body shudder that caused her shapely figure to jiggle even more enticingly.

Sarah let out more little cries of pleasure as Garrett’s thrusts spread and stretched her innermost vagina, stimulating places deeper inside than she even had remembered she possessed. Garrett’s big invader was giving Sarah enough stimulation on the inside that she didn’t even need special attention to her love button—just the sensations when her vulva met his root on the downstroke would be enough. Sarah knew she could reach orgasm this way.

Garrett, meanwhile, lasciviously ogled the perfect teardrop titties that were bouncing in full view in front of him. He reached up with both hands to cup the sensitive mounds firmly, drawing a high-pitched exclamation of “Oooh” from the joyous woman riding his cock. When he tweaked the sensitive buds of her nipples, he could feel the delighted squeezing of her cunt muscles in response. The experienced cocksman could tell that Sarah was feeling those pleasurable sensations not just in her luscious tits, but spreading throughout her entire passionate body.

As Garrett continued to stimulate her breasts, Sarah leaned forward to bring her upper body closer to him and began to meet his thrusts in a brisker rhythm. Sarah was whimpering quietly now, her excitement growing. Her eyes narrowed, and she tossed the waves of her light brown hair in her feverish passion.

Again and yet again Garrett filled her completely. His thick penis touched all her sensitive spots with each powerful thrust, the head finding a pleasure zone deep inside her. Sarah continued to meet those thrusts, slippery strokes up and down, up and down inside her. She could feel the beginning tremors of a climax as she began to rise towards orgasm.

Garrett, from long experience, could sense when the passionate woman riding him begin to lose control. He slid his hands down her fabulous body to grasp her wonderful ass tightly. He began to use that grip to control Sarah’s motions—encouraging Sarah to buck up and down at an accelerated pace. While he continued to thrust deep and high into her grasping pussy. Her fabulous boobs bouncing in front of him with their luscious stiff champagne-pink nipples inspired his efforts.

Now Sarah was panting deeply, her head thrown back to look sightlessly at the bar room’s ceiling. Her teeth were bared in a passionate grimace. Garrett was controlling their coupling now, steering her to meet his thrusts. She could barely think from excitement—she was losing control now.

With a savage grin, Garrett minutely changed the angle of his thrusts to rake his cock more firmly against the front wall of Sarah’s clutching cunt—her sensitized G-spot and the erogenous zones even deeper in. The walls of her educated pussy were grasping his prick so firmly he could feel the pulsing as Sarah’s inner muscles strained to contain his thrusts.

Sarah began to shudder and gasp in delight. Her piercing cries of “Oh” and “Ah” were music to Garrett’s ears.

Suddenly Sarah’s back arched strongly and her fingernails dug in where she was grasping Garrett’s legs. She let out a high-pitched squealing “Aaaaaaah” of ecstasy. Her pretty face contorted in passion.

As Garrett’s tip reached for the neck of her womb one final time, Sarah’s hips twitched powerfully. Then Sarah’s sensuous body began to writhe in waves on top of him, her voluptuous breasts shaking with each orgasmic shudder. Each quiver was punctuated by sighs of “Ooh” and “Aah.”

As her climax hit, Garrett felt Sarah’s pussy squeeze his cock wonderfully, contracting around his shaft with helpless spasms of delight. Warm, wet squirts soaked his cock with heat and humidity. Waves and waves of passionate exhilaration consumed her, leaving her shuddering helplessly on top of him.

Gradually, Sarah’s peak began to subside into a deeper satisfaction. “Oh, God,” she said adoringly as she met Garrett’s eyes again. She smiled weakly but devotedly at him. “Oh. Oooh. That was unbelievable.” The orgasm had been amazing, and tiny aftershocks continued to ripple through her belly.

Garrett drank in the amazingly sexy sight of her. “Feel good, my nasty little slut?”

Sarah’s satisfied expression darkened a bit at Garrett’s choice of words, but her thoughts were still consumed by the passion of her orgasm—her body was in control and her mind was just following along. All she said was, “I loved it. I needed that. I’ve never had it so good. I’ve never come like that before.”

Garrett’s lascivious grin widened. The prim and proper Sarah that Clark had married—and who he introduced Garrett to just an hour ago—would have bit off his head by now in response to his continued microaggressions. But with her boundaries expanded just a little way, they’d reconnected with the old Sarah, and the sweaty woman on his lap was a real sex kitten.

Although she was basking in the afterglow of her orgasm, something didn’t feel right. Sarah could still feel Garrett’s powerful erection still firm and fully erect inside her. “Didn’t you come too?” she asked.

“Not yet. Believe me, you’ll feel it well enough when I do,” Garrett confidently leered. “There’s more to come. I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

Sarah wasn’t close to ready to stop. “Oh yeah,” she breathed. “Do me more. Do me again.”

With that encouragement, Garrett brought his hand down to the furry landing strip on Sarah’s pussy mound and massaged the soft flesh in little circles.

Soon Sarah’s breath began to come faster and the nub of her clitoris was again fully extended into a proud stiff bulge of excitement. He changed focus to massage the swelling mounds of Sarah’s tits, which were hanging right in front of his face as she continued to straddle him. Her breaths were coming quicker now. As he leaned forward to capture an erect nipple in his mouth, she let out a sigh of “Oooooh”.

“Oh. Wow. Wait. Wait,” Sarah exclaimed, and pulled back off Garrett’s cock to stand in front of the confidently sprawling man. She put a finger to his lips. “Let me do you. The other way around this time.”

Then she spun around, showing Garrett a perfect view of her great ass before reclining supine on top of him. His hands enveloped her fabulous titties again, this time wrapped around from behind. Then they slid down her flanks to wrap around her hips, fingers playing with the tops of her stockings. Sarah’s hands came up to cover Garrett’s, clasping him to her succulent flesh.

With an effort, Sarah raised herself and spread her legs to either side of Garrett’s before sinking down to be filled again by Garrett’s hard penis. As she eased her clenching vagina down and further down his shaft, she was amazed again. Just like in their previous coupling, when she thought she was filled up, she found another inch ready to fill her more. She felt his caressing hands on her back, on her flanks, exciting her more.

When she had lowered herself all the way down, Sarah paused for a moment. This wasn’t her favorite position—she preferred to be able to look into her lover’s eyes—but it always amazed her how this position made her feel so full when a hard penis was inside her to the hilt. As she slid up and down Garrett’s shaft, her G-spot was constantly stimulated by the stiff organ’s thick central ridge. And every time the flange of Garrett’s bulbous head reached maximum penetration, it gave Sarah an electric charge in her deepest depths. Almost like a tiny orgasm.

“Who do you belong to, little sexpot?” Garrett asked her, flexing his cock, feeling her pussy shudder around him as her pleasure, her arousal, began to climb again. He now controlled her motion just by guiding her with light hands on her hips. He raised and lowered the obedient woman up and down his cockshaft, which glistened with her juices. Garrett basked in pleasure that came in equal parts from the glorious sensations of her pussy surrounding him and from the exhilaration of conquest.

Sarah’s hands, as if with a mind of their own, grasped her own breasts, squeezing, rolling, caressing herself as the couple continued their slow, easy rhythm. “MMmm....you...Oh yes...Do me just like...that....” she sighed dreamily.

Garrett’s lips relaxed into a predatory smile—the mere act of sexing Sarah had taken her back to a slutty younger self that she had hidden for years. Now she was babbling out her submission to him without even being prompted...

Up and down, Sarah allowed her new man to control her motions as she lowered herself repeatedly on his powerful shaft. She was breathily gasping out her passion, more and more intensely. She knew she was close to coming again and she could barely control herself. Her moans were almost whimpers as her excitement began to boil.

She was so wet, so hot, Garrett thought. How was this passionate a woman not constantly on her back under a man?

Garrett ran his hands up and down Sarah’s naked back as she lowered herself again and again to take his cockshaft to the hilt, rocking back and forth, fully impaled. Her excited, breathy cries of “Aah. Aah. Aah. Oh. Aah,” spurred Garrett on and he began to feel the first danger signs of the orgasm he’d been suppressing. She was getting close, but so was he.

Garrett used his leverage on Sarah’s smooth back to move her more upright on top of him, bending her forward and increasing the angle of penetration.

“Are you ready?” he asked, breathing heavily his own self as his hands moved back down her body, caressing her silky flanks down to the top of her tan stockings.

“Oh, yes! Take me!” Sarah cried submissively. Back arched, Sarah felt the telltale pulsing of Garrett’s thick penis that meant he was just about ready to come. Deep, deep inside her.

Unable to hold back any longer, Garrett let go. His hands grasped Sarah’s waist tightly again as the first jet of thick semen sprayed deep into her welcoming cunt. “Ummmmmm,” he groaned in relief as the first was followed by another ropey squirt, and then another and another, each hitting the target all the way at the neck of Sarah’s womb and flooding it with his essence.

Sarah was lost to sensation. The sensation of his possessive hands on her body. The pumping and throbbing of his thrusting penis as his orgasm neared. Finally the warmth as he erupted, spraying streams of hot semen against her cervix. Sarah gave herself over to the intensity of the sensations and let herself go back over the top.

“Aaah. Aaah. Uh. AAAAAAAAH!” she let out a final series of soprano cries and flooded Garrett’s member with a renewed cascade of fluid as her vagina spasmed around his shaft. Her belly trembled and rippled with bursting orgasmic spasms that radiated from deep in her core. She bucked and squirmed on top of her conquering lover, out of control.

Her passionate cries were music to Garrett’s ears. He possessed her now. He reveled in Sarah’s vocal declarations of ecstasy until the inarticulate noises faded to gasps of heavy breathing.

As the peak died down and Sarah’s writhing slowed, she tossed her lovely hair in pleasure. Dazed from the strength of her orgasm, she could only let out a final sigh of “Aaaah.” Then Sarah collapsed forward, overwhelmed and spent. She could feel the pool of Garrett’s sperm deep inside her, and the warm, slippery sensation filled her with a devoted lassitude. The amazing sex had gone straight to her brain.

Soon, Garrett’s penis had softened enough to slither out of Sarah’s vagina. The empty feeling down there brought her back to reality. She leaned back on top of the unresisting Garrett and nestled her head against his neck as their linked bodies reclined to meet the back of the couch. Their mingled juices slowly leaked from Sarah’s labia, leaving the trimmed fur there a soaking mess.

After a few minutes of post-coital cuddling, Sarah raised her head to look into Garrett’s eyes. Knowing in her heart that she would let the strong, decisive mature Garrett take possession of her again, body and mind, whenever he wanted—and she confessed. “I’m yours now. You said I’m a dirty little slut, and I guess I am. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” She absently ran her fingers through Garrett’s chest hair. As Garrett’s hand possessively squeezed one smooth, supple buttock, Sarah again pillowed her head on his shoulder and snuggled down against her new man, satisfied at least for now.

PERKINS RESIDENCE, MALIBU — JUNE 16, 6:00 PM PACIFIC TIME

Dinner was shaping up to be awkward.

When Kim had come home, her father had confronted her in the foyer. “Do you think that dress is appropriate for company, young woman—we have a very important guest,” he opened.

“Oh, god,” Kim replied, “Another of your old fossils from work? I expect you’re going to force me to change into ‘something more appropriate’ again?”

Kim didn’t expect a decisive response from her father—he had never been comfortable around her since she’d grown up—but the look of sudden confusion on his face was a surprise.

In his mind, Clark was flashing back to the scene in the bar the hour past. Garrett was obviously a man of passion. And he was the Master of the House, so everything in it was his, right? He would certainly appreciate having a beautiful younger woman around. Wouldn’t he?

“Umm, not this time? Kimberley? I think that what you’re wearing would be fine. Maybe?” Clark said indecisively. Something deep inside was warring with what he felt the Master would want.

Then, with an exclamation of “Dinner’s almost ready, young woman,” Clark retreated to the kitchen. What Kim wore to dinner would be someone else’s problem.

Great, my own father wants me to show off for one of his old pervert friends, Kim thought.

But when she got to the dining room, that wasn’t the case. Three places were set at the main table, but her mother had moved so that she was practically next to the older man who was obviously Clark’s guest. Her mother was involving him in what was clearly a two-person conversation, and the old perv was clearly enjoying the attention.

There was something weird going on with her mother. Her hair was mussed, she was somewhat flushed, and every few minutes she got a wide, faraway look in her eye and then shifted her hips restlessly in her chair.

Having most of a small college twisted around her finger, Kim naturally expected that she would be the center of attention. But while the steel-gray haired older man had given her an appreciative once-over as she entered the dining room, her mother held his attention well enough that he spared only an occasional glance for Kim’s plump bustline.

When her father returned to the kitchen after serving the seated three, the weirdness became too much, and Kim went to confront him.

“Why aren’t you at the table?” she asked pointedly. “It’s your house!”

“It wouldn’t be... I- I—... Mr. Morley is...” her father stammered.

“I don’t care how much he has you intimidated,” Kim said. “If mom and I have to go through being shown off for your friend, you can at least be there for it.” And she returned to the table.

After a few minutes, Clark brought out a fourth place setting, and, as quietly as humanly possible, set a place for himself as far from the center of attention as possible.

Kim endured what seemed like an eternity sitting halfway between her unusually animated mother and unusually passive father, and fled when the latter got up to serve dessert.

When she saw the suitcases in the upstairs hallway, Kim rolled her eyes. “Oh great, he’s sleeping over,” she thought. When she got into her room, she shut the door behind her to protect herself from all the weirdness and got out her phone to text with someone normal, or at least her current boyfriend.