The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Scott Pringle wiped the sweat from his brow with a rubber coated hand, peering down at the bubbling fluid flowing through the glass pipe he’d set up, watching as it flowed from one beaker into the other, changing colors with each additional component. His thick coke bottle glasses fogged up slightly, so he pulled them down, wiping them off against his white lab coat before putting them back on, restoring his sight. Moving to the far end of the room, he pulled out the small Bunsen burner, and placed it underneath the large wide mouth beaker filled with clear filtered water, and ignited it. He watched, waiting for the fluid flowing through the tubes to reach that beaker, anticipation making him sweat even more.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he whispered softly, impatient for the final results. “Please, let this work!”

As he watched, the red liquid made its way to the beaker, pouring in slowly, turning the clear water bring pink. As the liquid slowly heater up, however, the concoction changed colors, taking on the tints of the previous stages it had encountered, darkening to a deep purple, then a light blue, then a deep sea green, then yellow, before finally changing a milky white color. Scott sighed deeply, removing the beaker carefully from the heat, setting it aside to cool, using a small eyedropper to draw a few drops of the precious compound out to test its potency.

“Heh. It’s a pity you can’t see the irony of testing out a synthetic cat pheromone solution on a rat,” Scott said to the black and white animal in the palm of his hand. “Okay, Bluto,” he said softly to his lab rat, squeezing a single drop into the animal’s open mouth, “let’s see if the twelfth time is the charm. Here ya go boy... now, let’s see some magic!”

Placing the rat back inside the enclosure, he watched anxiously as Bluto made his way back to the next where the other rats were held. Several of the females glanced up as he entered, sniffing the air, as if interested, and Scott held his breath. Then, disappointed, he turned away as the female rats turned back away, continuing to ignore Bluto as before.

“Dammit!” He cried out in frustration, slamming a hand against the table, nearly knocking over his lunch in the process. He caught the bottle of Yoo-hoo just before it topped off the shelf, placing it carefully back in place, just as the laboratory door opened. Startled, he fumbled with the cap, sending it flying off behind the test tube racks, but placed the open bottle safely aside, turning to face his supervisor, Ms. Dixon, Dean of the Science Department, and her current boyfriend, Raoul.

Miranda Dixon’s impressive and imposing figure stood just a hair under six feet, with long shapely legs, long black hair that stretched down to the center of her back, and soft smooth skin the color of burnished copper. Her C cup breasts, combined with her small thin chest and waist, gave her a ‘Barbie Doll’ figure. Vivid green eyes, a pert perky nose, and full bee stung lips completed the look, and the several thousand dollars’ worth of plastic surgery she’d had made sure she retained her beautiful and youthful visage, despite her forty-plus years. Indeed, she had the face and body of an angel; it was unfortunate, then, that said body contained the spirit of a devil.

“Status report, Professor Pringle,” she said sharply, pulling at a stray thread on her navy blue pants suit. “Have you made any further progress with your synthetic pheromone formula? My contacts with the perfume industries are beginning to get impatient. Tell me you have good news for a change.”

Scott sighed, removing his glasses, rubbing them idly against his lab coat, an old habit. “Well, um, yes, well, you see... I have made some... um... definite strides... strides, yes... along the path to finding the... the, um, final combination of, um, components, to, ah, create the... the.. um... desired end result... you see...”

Raoul laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh my, Miranda,” he said smoothly, pushing past Scott, glancing idly at the glasswork set up in disdain. “You’ve made the poor boy so nervous that he can’t even answer you without stuttering.” He laughed again, picking up a bottle of clear liquid, sniffing it lightly before putting it back down with a frown. “Then again, from what I hear, Pringle is nervous around ALL women, not just the beautiful ones! Isn’t that right, Professor?”

Miranda merely scowled, loudly tapping a dark navy pump against the floor. “Alright, Professor,” she said in obvious derision, “since you’re an egghead used to thinking in complex mathematical notation, let me try and put this question to you in small words so you can understand: DO! WE! HAVE! A! WORKING!!! FORMULA! YET?!?”

Scott blinked, taking an involuntary step backwards, nearly knocking over the rack of tubes and beakers yet again. “Oh. Um. I, er... no. Not... not yet. But... I’m really close,” he added, cringing underneath her withering gaze.

“’I’m really close, I’m really close’... you’ve been saying that for weeks, Pringle!” she shouted angrily. “The people financing this little project of ours are getting fed up with waiting, and frankly, so am I! I choose you for this project because I thought you were the smartest, most capable biochemist in the University, not to mention the entire country... but now I think maybe it was a mistake to trust you with this.” She sniffed, turning up her pert little nose, flipping a length of long black over her shoulder as she did so, a move she had practiced often. “Maybe I should see if another, more able scientist would have better luck unlocking the secrets of physical attraction through sensory stimulation since you are... so obviously ill equipped to handle it,” she said, turning away.

“Heh. Well, what did you expect after all, babe?” Raoul said with a sneer. “What would a greasy faced nerd like THAT know about attracting a woman?” Wrapping his arm around Miranda’s waist, he pulled her into a tight possessive embrace. “Attracting a guy’s attention, however... he probably know all about that!”

Scott felt a momentary flush of anger, but he merely sighed, pushing it down deep inside him the way he always did. He hated confrontations. Besides, what would be the point? He WAS a big greasy-faced nerd, riddled with acne, bad hair, and glasses so thick a normal person could use them to see the planets and stars at night. He’d never had a girlfriend. In fact, he’d never had a girl look at him as anything more than a tool to use to get an easy A from conning him into doing their homework back in high school and college, or now that he was a teacher, flashing a little skin to convince him to pass them at the end of the year. He wasn’t gay by any means, but he was a loser, and he knew it.

“Well, anyway, it’s no longer his concern to deal with,” Miranda said, crossing her arms regally. “Effective immediately, I am pulling your funding. Clean out the laboratory of all your failures, and pass on your research notes to Professor Farnsworth. He’ll be taking over here starting tomorrow, and you can focus your energies more fully in the classroom. As the saying goes, those who can’t, teach!” She and Raoul laughed as they made their exit, leaving Scott alone in the lab.

“Dammit,” he said again, slamming both hands down on the desk in frustration. “I was so close, too. I know I was. I was just missing one thing... one little piece to the puzzle.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “And now... looks like I’ll never even get the chance to discover what it was.” Sighing, he bent down to pluck Bluto and the others rats from the enclosed rat habitat, wincing as his butt bumped against the table. Above him, the bottle of Yoo-hoo, jostled and jolted by the repeated smaller bumps, finally toppled over, spraying copious amounts of chocolate flavored drink all over the desk before falling over the edge, shattering as it hit the floor.

“Ah, crap!” Scott groaned, smacking his forehead with his free hand. “Just what I needed! That’s what was missing from this really perfect day.” Sighing, he placed Bluto atop the plastic enclosure and bent down to pick up the glass fragments, unaware of the fact that the chocolate drink had splashed in and mixed with beaker of formula he’d created, or that the nearly full beaker had splashed from the additional contents, drops of which were running down the table and onto the roof of the plastic rat habitat. Or that Bluto, curious about the sticky liquid pooling up around him, was lapping it up as fast as he could manage.

“Aaaahhhh!” the unwitting professor gasped, wincing as a sharp edge of glass sliced into his skin. Pulling off the useless punctured rubber glove, he glanced around, looking for the broom and dustpan... only to stop and stare in shock at the plastic domicile in front of him. Bluto stood atop the little plastic cage, just where he’d left him, licking as the small puddle of milky brown liquid dripping down from the table. But what was unusual was the reaction of the females still locked up inside. Each one of them was standing up on two legs, staring straight up at the clear transparent roof, staring with eerie fascination at Bluto, following his every twitch, every lick, every movement he made. A drop of liquid landed fell from the table, landing directly on the back of his head, and he jumped back, squealing slightly. As one, the females moved as well, sliding to the left until they were directly underneath Bluto again, staring up at him as if...

As if he were the most important thing in their world?!?

Adjusting his glasses, Scott peered down at the rats, then at the spilled mess on the table... then glanced down at the shattered mess on the floor... the rats, and the table again. Finally, he glanced over at the brown discolored fluid in beaker at the edge of the table.

“Holy shit,” he breathed softly, reaching out with trembling hands to grasp the beaker. He picked up the sticky glass cup and carefully brought it across the room to gas spectrometer, and placing a sample into a test tube, gave the concoction a complete and detailed breakdown. He stared in awe as the machine plotted out a series of arcs showing each element present and the amount thereof, while he plotted out the resultant shape of the molecules structure. Finally, he compared the final results with his previous attempts’ composition and structure.

“A fluke,” he whispered, as a smile began to crease his lips. “A one-in-a-million fluke, but damned if it doesn’t match up perfectly. Yoo-hoo... I never would have thought of that in a million years, but it meshes perfect with the synthetic pheromone’s molecular pattern, and lengthens it just enough to make it stable! And it sure as hell seems to work on rats!” He frowned slightly. “But... not sure exactly how it worked on them. I mean, Bluto isn’t even inside the enclosure... and once it’s sealed, it’s airtight. If they’re not responding to the change in his scent caused by the compound... what are they responding to?”

Sighing softly, thinking that he needed to do a bit more study to figure out exactly what the new formula actually did, he paused, considering. On the one hand, he’d made a significant, if unexpected, breakthrough. On the other hand, Ms. Dixon had, in no uncertain terms, fired him from the project. Technically, he needed to go to Ms. Dixon now and inform her of this latest development. Of course, he estimated a ninety-seven percent chance that even if he presented her with a fully functioning pheromone formula specified to the perfume company’s needs, the most he could expect would be a derisive comment about it taking so long, while she took the full credit for the discovery and pocketed the dividends.

“To hell with it,” he murmured softly, sticking the computer printouts into his back pocket, pouring the contents of the beaker into twelve empty test tubes. I’ll turn over all the research notes I have on the process to Farnsworth, but not the results of the accident. If he can get a working formula from my notes, then fine. He deserves it. But I’ll take this back home with me to finish doing my own research. Nodding to himself, Scott smiled for the first time since he’d started the project. Walking over to the sink, he washed the sticky residue off his hands, rinsed out the beaker, and began cleaning up the mess, getting the lab ready for the next sucker unfortunate enough to be sweet talked into Dean Dixon’s little pet project.

Patty Seivers yawned softly as she listened half-heartedly to her boyfriend, Jack, going on and on about the night’s football game. As a cheerleader, it was her duty to support the football team... on the field, that is. After the game was over, sitting around at the local bar with her boyfriend and several others from the team, football was the last thing she wanted to talk about. The boys, however, seemed content to go on and all about this incredible play, and that incredible catch, or how much the referee was an incredible jerk to their team. The whole thing was, to Patty, an incredible bore.

Gah. If I have to listen to Jack go on and on about this shit for another minute, I think I’ll throw up! Dammit... I can’t see how Rebecca and Jacqui can sit there, smiling, looking like they’re actually enjoying themselves when I know they’re as bored as I am. Ugh. If Jack wasn’t hung like a mule, and the hottest looking guy on the team, I would have kicked him to the curb months ago. She sighed, putting on her best fake smile as he hugged her briskly, still chatting with his team mates. Speaking of which, that bastard better be ready to go tonight as soon as we get back! Cheering in front of a full stadium always gets my motor revving, so he better not beg off tonight, or I WILL dump his ass.

Yawning again, she glanced around the bar, looking for anything interesting to keep her from nodding off, when she spied a familiar looking jacket. Near the front door, a tall thin form in a tweed jacket and cap meandered his way through the small crowd of men walking out of the bar. She frowned as she momentarily lost sight of him, standing up to try and get a better look. “Patty?” Jack said, shaking her arm slightly. “Hey baby? What are ya staring at?”

Patty frowned. “I... oh, nothing. For a moment there, I thought I saw our Chemistry professor walk in.” She shook her head. “You know that funky old style jacket he wears all the time? I thought I saw it just now.” She shrugged. “Oh well. I guess my eyes must have been playing tricks on me.”

“More like your mind, baby,” Jack teased, getting a chuckle from the rest of the group. “As if old man Pringle would come into a place like this.”

“Heh, I dunno about that, Jack,” Roger, his teammate joked, “It is a bar. He might be here to check the, um... pH of the beer, to make sure it’s not too acidy!” The group started laughing again as a tall figure moved unnoticed up behind Patty.

“I think the term you’re looking for is acidic, not acidy,” a deep baritone voice replied over the sound of their laughter. The group of friends turned, spying the figure in the tweed jacket with the cap pulled down over his face. “Sorry to interrupt. Just thought I’d give you a little English lesson to go with your Chemistry lesson.”

“Pro... professor Pringle?” one of the cheerleaders, Jacqui, asked, peering forward. “Is that you under there?” In response, the man removed his cap, shedding the jacket, revealing a handsome visage on clear tanned skin, piercing grey eyes, and a mane of full, wavy blonde hair. He wore an olive green polo shirt with the first two buttons undone, showing just the hint of the huge pectoral muscles underneath. His tapering waist and thick massive legs were hidden beneath a pair of khaki Dockers, which several of the girls noticed seemed extremely tight along the groin area. Jacqui blinked, realized she was staring, then shook her head. “Oh, um, sorry, sir... I thought you were someone else.”

“Yes, yes, Professor Pringle, you said,” the man replied, thoughtfully. “Well, as you can see, I’m not him, obviously. But I know the man. Yes... I know him well. We are... colleagues, I suppose you could say.” He smiled, giving the group a flash of his perfect teeth. “A colleague... and a friend.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for telling us, buddy,” Frank, the quarterback said, turning back to the rest of his friends. “Anyway, Jack, as I was saying—”

“No, as I was saying,” the man cut in, placing a hand on Frank’s shoulder, causing the young man to wince slightly in pain, pulling, or attempting to pull away, “the man is a friend of mine. A really good friend. And I don’t think he’d appreciate knowing that he was the butt of a joke from a bunch of football jocks and their bimbo cheerleader girlfriends.”

Silence, for half a second. Then:

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Bimbo? Who the hell are you calling a bimbo?”

“You better step the fuck off before I beat the shit out of you!”

“Fucking prick!”

“Who the FUCK do you think you are?”

All the while, the man stood there, calmly, letting them vent for several seconds, before slamming a hand down hard in the center of the table, earning their silence. “Enough, children,” he said in a calm steady voice. “If you insist on acting like children, then you can expect to be treated that way in turn. Now then... I expect the lot of you to apologize for what you said about Professor Pringle. Once you do, I’ll be content to go on about my way and let you six get back to your festivities...”

“Like hell,” Frank yelled, getting to his feet, kicking aside his chair. “I ain’t gonna apologize for shit! If you don’t want to end up with your head sticking out of your ass, I suggest you get the fuck out of here now!” He chuckled. “Or better yet, you apologize to us and MAYBE we’ll let you leave.”

The man sighed, rolling his eyes. “How foolish. Oh well. I had come here hoping to find a good time... but I suppose one form of entertainment is as good as another.” He glanced over at the bouncer heading towards them and held up a hand. “It’s quite alright, sir. I have the situation well in hand. Trust me... I am more than capable of dealing with a bunch of rowdy kids. And assure the manager that I’ll glad pay for any damages.” He grinned, cracking his knuckles, and the bouncer, nonplussed, merely shrugged, taking a step back to watch.

“Arrogant little prick, ain’t he, Frank?” Jack said, getting to his feet as well. “C’mon. Let’s kick his ass!”

The man yawned, making a big show of it. Enraged, Frank took a swing at him, intending to drive the man’s chin up into forehead, only to strike air. Frank turned, and swung again, this time aiming for a body shot, again, only to miss badly. “What the... fucker! Stand still!” Launching a series of wild blows, Frank charged forward, somehow managing to narrowly miss the calmly grinning man each time. Finally, bored with the proceedings, the man struck back, grabbing Frank’s arm in mid-swing, grasping his thumb and twisting, hard.

Frank let out a hoarse cry, dropping down to his knees, gripping his own wrist with his free hand, trying to relieve the pressure of the man’s grapple. Jack, seeing his friend in trouble, rushed in, intending to get in a sucker punch from behind. The man merely stepped aside at the last second, thrusting out with his leg, causing Jack to stumble and trip, crashing head first into another table. Roger, the last remaining football player, pushed back his chair, and grabbed a beer bottle, brandishing it like a weapon. “Let him go,” he growled, moving cautiously towards the man, feinting a few times, trying to close in on him. “Let him go, or I swear I’ll bash your fucking head in!”

“You’re more than welcome to try,” the man said casually, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt with his free hand. “I have to tell you though, it rarely works out the way it does in the movies. Breaking a battle that way is as likely to cut your hand to ribbons as it is to do any damage to the person you hit with it—” he replied, moving deftly as Roger swung, pulling the hapless Frank into the blow. As predicted the bottle shattered, knocking the Quarterback out cold, and slicing a deep gash into his teammate’s hand, who began screaming, clutching his bleeding hand “—just like that, actually.” Releasing Frank’s hand, he walked back to the table where the girls all stood, stunned by what had just occurred.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said to the bouncer who looked him up and down with newfound respect. “I think this should cover any damages,” tossing the man a couple of hundred dollar bills, “and if it’s not too much of a bother, could you tend to those poor unfortunate boys? The loud one is probably going to need to go to the hospital later to get stitches.”

“Yeah, sure, buddy, no problem,” the bouncer replied, shaking his head again as he knelt down and began padding napkins into Roger’s bleeding hand.

“Well,” the man stated, turning back to face the cheerleaders once more, “I think it’s pretty much useless to ask the boys for an apology, given their current status,” he said with a wicked grin, “so that leaves you girls. Now, are any of you ready to apologize for insulting my dear friend Professor Pringle?”

Patty swallowed slightly, not wanting to end up like her boyfriend, but Jacqui responded before she could, taunting the man—as usual, making the worst of a bad situation. “Professor Pringle can kiss my ass,” she said defiantly, crossing her arms, “and so can you, for that matter. So what now, huh? Gonna show everyone here how tough you are by beating up on a girl?”

The man grinned wider. “Perish the thought. I would never physically harm a young woman. Only uncouth louts like your three friends think that resorting to violence is the answer to every problem.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to take care of arrogant little bitches that don’t know when to keep their mouths shut!” Reaching out, he grabbed Jacqui by the back of the head, and before she could protest, pulled her into a tight, emphatic liplock. The young Latina’s eyes went wide in shock, and she flailed her arms wildly, wanting to pull away but too stunned by the sudden attack to know how to accomplish it. Second by second, however, her struggles began to fade, and the tenseness left her body, as she began to relax, leaning into the man kissing her. When he finally broke the kiss, Jacqui stood there on wobbly legs, dazed, with a glazed expression on her face. “Now, why don’t you go be a good girl and go sit down while i deal with your friends,” he said softly.

“Yeah, uh huh, okay, sure,” Jacqui replied dreamily, making her way over to an empty chair, sitting down with a soft sigh.

Rebecca and Patty glanced at each other. “Um, hey, buddy, um, okay, look, we don’t want any trouble,” Rebecca said, backing slowly away. “I don’t know what the hell you did to Jacqui, but I don’t want your mouth anywhere near me, okay? If all you want is an apology—”

“Oh, but the time for apologies is past, I’m afraid,” the man said, flashing his grin once again. “You all had your chance, but you thought it was more fun to insult me and provoke me. Well, now I’m provoked. So, it’s only natural that I... respond in kind,” he said, snatching Rebecca’s hand, grasping it gently yet firmly. She gasped, staring at him with wide eyes, but he made no overt moves to try and kiss her, merely content to hold her hand. “The thing about you college girls,” he said, softly stroking the back of her hand, “is that you are surrounded by college boys, roughneck, uncouth, unsophisticated, and generally unintelligent boys.” Rebecca sighed, cooing softly as the man’s fingers gently circled the tender flesh of the back of her hand. " So I can’t really be too hard on you when you adjust to your surroundings and start acting like a witness ninny to fit in with the company you keep, can I?” Rebecca shook her head, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

“Well, in that case, I trust you’ll agree to keep that firmly in mind from now on then?” Rebecca nodded, this time unable to prevent the moan from escaping her lips. The man nodded, releasing her hand. “Good girl. Now go and sit down next to your friend over there.” Rebecca sighed softly, her eyes dropping to half-lidded height, as she made her way slowly over to the empty seat next to Jacqui. Finally, the man turned to face Patty. “Which, just leaves... you.”

“Please,” Patty said in a soft voice, glancing around fearfully. “Just... just let me go, okay? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for all of this to happen. I just... I just want to go home.”

The man nodded softly. “Yes, I know. I may not be a lot of things, Patricia, but I am a keen observer. You were the only one that didn’t say anything while the others started hurling insults. If anything, you looked embarrassed to be lumped in with the others.” He sighed softly. “You weren’t one of the rebel rousers, Patricia... but you weren’t exactly one of my supporters, either. You were also content enough to stay quiet while your boyfriend tried to give me the bum’s rush, so I can’t exactly count you as my friend, can I?” After a moment, however, he smiled again. “Tell you what, though. We can simply start over from scratch. We can still become very good friends, Patricia.” He stared directly into her eyes. “Would you like that? Would you like to be my friend?”

Patty nodded slowly, staring back into his deep grey eyes, a slow smile creasing her lips. “Yes... I wa... want to be... your friend...”

“Good, good. And since we are starting over, then everything that happened before now doesn’t’ t matter. Isn’t that true, Patricia?”

“Yes... s’truth,” she replied, eyes locked into his.

“Good. And so we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” she replied, sighing gently, feeling herself relaxing inside and out.

“You and I are friends. And you’re a very lovely young girl, Patricia. A very lovely, sexy girl... that is my friend. You’re a girl... who is my friend. You’re a girl... friend. Isn’t that right, Patricia?”

Patricia paused, frowning slightly. The words made sense, but something in the back of her mind said there was something wrong, a flaw in the logic. The majority of her, however, simply accepted his words. “Yes.. I’m... a girl friend...”

“Hmmm...” the man said, considering. “Yes. A girl friend. You’re a girl... and I’m a guy. A friend. Someone you like. Someone you trust. Someone you’d like to be... closer to,” he said with a predatory grin.

That set off slightly louder alarm bells in the back of her mind. “Closer? But.... no... I have a... boy... friend?” she asked, unsure, turning her head to the side, still locked eye to eye with the mysterious man. She blinked, finally averting her eyes, and stared down at the crumpled form lying face down underneath the nearby table. There was something important about him, something that was supposed to mean something to her... but everything that had happened earlier didn’t matter anyway... did it?

“He’s not your boyfriend, Patricia,” the man replied, catching her attention, causing her turn and face him again. “He is just some loser you briefly shared some time with. But now you’ve outgrown him. You don’t have a boyfriend. You don’t need one. You’re a free agent, Patricia. You’re an independent minded young woman... who can choose to be with whoever she wants.” His grin spread wider. “And right now... you choose to be with me.” Her eyes locked onto his, and she felt everything settle back into place, like a key sliding into a lock. Her smile returned.

“With you... I... choose... to be with you...” she said, nodding softly, almost to herself. Yes, the words sounded right now. She had had a boyfriend... a real jerk, a total waste of space. She’d outgrown him... wanted to get rid of him... she remembered that now. Yeah, she was a free agent, able to be with anyone she wanted. Which was a good thing, as she suddenly remembered her earlier arousal. She licked her lips, her glazed eyes locking onto the stranger’s clear bottomless grey ones. “So, um... friend,” she said awkwardly, for some reason unable to recall her friend’s name.

“You can call me... Buddy,” the man said, grinning again. “Yes. Buddy will do nicely.”

“So, Buddy,” Patty continued seductively, pressing herself closer to her handsome strapping man, “what say we get out of this place, head back to my apartment, and help me scratch this little... ‘itch’ I’ve got?”

Buddy nodded, chuckling softly. “I think that sounds like a simply smashing idea. Just give me a few minutes to... tidy up a few things first,” he said, glancing over at the two girls sitting there staring idly off into space. Walking over to the bouncer, he whispered into the man’s ear for a moment, who laughed, shaking his head, then nodded once. He then walked over to the two girls, whispering to them softly for a moment, causing them to turn, eyeing the bouncer intently, before smiling as well. Satisfied, he handed the bouncer a few bills to pay for damage to the table and a few spilled drinks, and headed back to Patty. Taking her arm in his own, he gestured to the door. “Now then, shall we?”

“What did you say to those two girls?” Patty asked, frowning. It seemed almost like she knew them... from somewhere. Buddy merely shrugged.

“I told them earlier that they needed to learn their place. After a bit of discussion, we agreed that their place was on their knees servicing that very large very nice man in the black vest for the next several hours.” He chuckled. “Your place, it seems, is right here with me.” Walking out the door with the beautiful young college co-ed on his arm, he sighed in contentment.

Well, I came here looking for entertainment, and I definitely found what I was looking for.