The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Carrie was definitely going to regret missing this trip, Sheryl thought with a grin as she introduced herself to the group. Eight campers, counting Sheryl and the guide, and Bill, Ed, Frank, and George were all single guys. Only one other woman, and she was married to Dan, the last guy...and flat as a board to boot. Sheryl liked those odds.

“And I’m Joe,” the guide finished as the round of introductions concluded. “I’ll be making sure you don’t fall off of anything steep, run into anything sharp, or use poison ivy for toilet paper.” That got a chuckle. A knowing one in a few cases, judging by the expression on Bill and George’s faces. “Keep in mind, this is going to be real camping. No room service, no iPhones, and no going back to the lodge at night. We will all take our turns cooking and cleaning—don’t think that the women are going to be doing it every day.”

Sheryl laughed, but Meghan, sitting next to her husband Dan and holding his arm like he was about to float away, just narrowed her dark brown eyes and shot her a look of pure disdain. Sheryl shrugged it off—ever since she hit puberty, there were always a few women who glared at her like that. Call it the downside of a 34F visit from the Boob Fairy. Sheryl had learned long ago not to let anybody else’s jealousy get to her. She fixed her baby blues back on Meghan and gave her a mock-innocent smile in return.

“Alright, people, let’s grab our gear and get on the move,” Joe said, completely oblivious to any developing tension. “Tonight’s campsite is about a five-hour walk if we set a good pace. I’d like to be able to pitch tents in daylight, and I’m sure you would too.” There were a few more scattered chuckles as everyone hefted their backpacks and followed Joe onto the hiking trail.

Sheryl had kind of hoped for the opportunity to do a little chit-chatting with the boys, but Joe wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to set a good pace. Within minutes, Sheryl was saving all her breath for breathing. The sun was beating down pretty hard, too—Sheryl could feel her blonde hair sticking to her forehead, and her sports bra was damp with perspiration. Her only consolation was that nobody else looked much better.

Two hours later, they finally stopped for a rest break. Sheryl took a cue from Joe and the other campers and doffed her backpack and flopped out under a tree, trying to massage some of the soreness out of her shoulders, while Ed opened up his canteen and poured water onto his head in a way that Sheryl would really appreciate under most other circumstances. Meghan just stood there for a long moment with her short dark hair plastered to her skull, sucking wind while her husband held her hand—she looked like she was in great shape, but it had to suck being a full six inches shorter than most of the other campers including Sheryl. She practically had to march double time. Sheryl was almost ready to feel sorry for her when their eyes met and she got another dose of that ‘what’s on my shoe’ stare.

Bill sat down next to her, still breathing hard. “Remind me why I didn’t go on a cruise?” he said, an exhausted smile crossing his face.

Sheryl put thoughts of Meghan out of her head as she smiled back. “If it’s the same reason as me, you got talked into it by a friend who came down with chicken pox two nights before the trip.”

Bill laughed, and the two of them spent a pleasant few minutes chatting before the hike resumed. That night, he offered to help Sheryl pitch her tent, but before she had the chance to accept, Frank jumped in to offer his years of experience with just this particular model. Within minutes, all of the guys were practically fighting over who would be the one to help—even Dan looked like he was about to say something before Meghan possessively grabbed his knee.

In the end, Sheryl turned them all down and put the tent up herself. It was easier than having to deal with one of the boys getting the idea that they’d staked some sort of claim on her. Some men got ideas about women with bodies like hers, and Sheryl was determined to play the field for at least a little while.

After everyone had set up camp, they drew straws for who was going to cook dinner tonight and who was going to make breakfast tomorrow. Ed and George drew the short straws for the evening meal, and Sheryl pulled the first short straw for breakfast. She felt a twinge of anxiety when Meghan drew her straw—she’d just as soon minimize her contact with Meghan as long as the other woman was convinced that she was some sort of man-stealing succubus—but luckily she got one of the long ones. That was bound to keep things a bit calmer in camp.

Then Dan drew the other short straw. Sheryl could tell from the look on Meghan’s face that ‘calm’ had just gone for a long walk all its own. And probably gotten lost.

The next morning after breakfast, while everyone else went sightseeing (“just up to Hampton Head and back—bring your cameras, there’s an amazing view of the bay”) Sheryl and Dan schlepped the dirty dishes down to the creek to wash them. The whole time, Dan looked at her tits like he’d never seen a pair before. Maybe he hadn’t—Meghan looked like she’d never even had to shop for a bra.

“So,” Sheryl said, in an effort to break the silence, “how long have you and Meghan been a couple?”

Dan looked up sharply, pretending he’d been concentrating on the dishes. “Um, we—about ten years now. Married for six.” He looked nervous, like he expected to get into trouble just for talking to her.

Sheryl was starting to get sick of it. “I don’t bite, you know,” she said. She dipped a bowl into the sun-warmed water a little harder than intended, causing a splash that soaked into her white t-shirt and plastered it to the skin of her belly.

Dan stared at the translucent shirt for a long moment before realizing that she had also spoken. “It’s not—um, I mean, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” He looked straight down at his pile of dishes, scrubbing furiously.

Sheryl scowled, attacking her own stack of plates with a bit more vigor than the situation called for. Her shirt got splashed more than a few times, but she didn’t care. If Meghan was so worried about keeping a man that she wouldn’t even let Dan talk to another woman, maybe he deserved a little show. Even a convicted prisoner got to go out into the exercise yard.

The more she thought about it, the angrier Sheryl got. She could feel a little devil whispering in her ear, and her angel seemed to have gone off sightseeing. Dan seemed like a perfectly nice guy, and he was so henpecked that he couldn’t even have a quiet conversation without imagining Meghan putting the death grip on him all over again. Sheryl didn’t want to break anybody up, but...well, if they were going to break up just because Dan got a look at her boobs, then they probably would have broken up sooner or later anyway. So she was blameless. Basically.

Having satisfied her conscience, Sheryl ‘accidentally’ let a bowl slip out of her hands. And ‘accidentally’ overbalanced while reaching for it. And ‘accidentally’ splashed face-first into the knee-deep water of the creek.

Dan leapt to his feet and waded in after her, pulling her out within moments. He asked, “Are you, um...?” and then trailed off into silence, openly gaping at her chest. The shirt was practically see-through, and clung to the contours of her body in a way that accentuated her breasts. Even the sports bra didn’t do much of a job of hiding her large nipples, which had evidently decided that the water wasn’t that warm.

“I’m fine,” Sheryl said, unable to stop the devilish grin from spreading across her face. “I just...overbalanced, is all.” She chuckled, enjoying the way that Dan’s eyes followed each ripple of laughter as it moved through her body. “I’m probably quite a sight.”

Dan levered his eyes up to meet hers. “No, you’re, um, you’re fine. Probably dry off in minutes.”

Sheryl ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb it into place. “Still, I’m glad none of the boys saw me like this. They’d probably follow me around like puppy dogs for the rest of the trip.” She reached out and put her hand on Dan’s shoulder. “I don’t have to worry about that with you, though. You and—”

“Meghan!” Dan shouted, pulling away as if scalded and darting around Sheryl. She turned to see the rest of the group heading back down the trail. Judging by the expressions on their faces, most of the guys would be spending a little ‘alone time’ in their tent tonight with a mental image of Sheryl right now, but Meghan was looking at her with incandescent scorn.

Sheryl just smiled back at her. It was a smile she’d developed over more than a few years of dealing with women like Meghan, an ‘I don’t know what you’re so upset over’ smirk of genial innocence that always left them fuming. Sheryl always figured that since just existing would leave some women fuming, might as well go all in.

They broke camp not long after that and headed out, moving to a lakeshore spot that Joe swore would give everyone a chance to catch a bluegill or two. The hiking was less arduous today, but Sheryl still had a problem getting in any real conversation—any time she tried talking to one of the guys, the others would start glaring, they’d jostle him as they went past...the usual rooster bullshit. Sheryl found herself wishing for a couple of other girls just to distract them.

They pitched their tents in an open spot near the shore, and Sheryl decided that it might be a good idea to put Meghan and Dan between her and the boys. Not that she was worried, or anything, but she was starting to get a little sick of being treated like a ring-toss prize. They drew straws—Joe and Bill got dinner, and Ed and Frank got breakfast—and settled in to fish.

Sheryl thought she was going to sleep like a rock that night, but she found herself lying awake well after Joe had put out the cooking fires and everyone had retired to their tents for the evening. Her body ached just a little too much from the unaccustomed exertion to really get comfortable, and she was still stuck trying to figure out a way to get acquainted with any one guy without setting off a testosterone bomb in the group.

So when Meghan and Dan started arguing in low voices, Sheryl was awake to hear it. She only caught indistinct whispers at first, but gradually they got loud enough for her to make out the words. “Who does that cock belong to?” she heard Meghan snarl out in a low, flat tone.

“It belongs to you,” Dan whimpered timidly. Jesus fuck, Sheryl thought, henpecked didn’t even start to cover it. She had him pussywhipped hard. No wonder he was so nervous around Sheryl—the man probably thought his wife would lop his balls off and play tennis with them if he looked at another woman.

“That’s right, you little slut,” Meghan snapped. Sheryl rolled over and levered herself up onto her elbows—she wasn’t really meaning to eavesdrop, but when juicy stuff was happening right next door, how could you not? Especially when nothing separated you from the neighbors but two thin layers of fabric.

The moon was full enough to give Sheryl a good view of the couple in silhouette. Meghan was sitting up, and Dan was kneeling in front of her. They were both naked, and it was clear that Meghan really didn’t have anything at all up top. She had big, stiff nipples that stuck up maybe an inch from her skin, but if there was even a bump there, Sheryl couldn’t see it through the tent walls.

Dan, on the other hand, had a shadow that nobody could mistake. His cock jutted out from his body like a soldier at attention, bobbing up and down just a little as he breathed. Sheryl would need a tape measure to be sure, but she was guessing nine inches, maybe ten. She watched as Meghan reached out and grabbed it.

“This is my cock,” she snapped out, giving it a hard tug that made Dan whimper—either in pain or arousal, Sheryl couldn’t tell which. “It does all the thinking for you, doesn’t it, slut?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dan said, his voice toneless. He’d clearly had this argument enough times to know better than to disagree. “My cock does all the thinking for me.”

“Of course it does,” Meghan said impatiently. “You can’t even think with that great big horse cock sucking all the blood away from your brain. I have to do all the thinking for you, because all that’s going through your mind is sticking that slut dick of yours into something soft and wet. Isn’t that right, cock-brain?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dan replied, evidently interested in keeping the peace. “All your cock-brained slut can think of is your pussy now.”

“Good boy,” Meghan said. She leaned back, apparently satisfied with his response. “Now, cock-brain, I want you to come over here and let me squeeze every last thought out of your slutty horse cock with my pussy. You’re going to look me right in the eyes and think of nothing but my pussy while I fuck you stupid, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dan said. He leaned over her and Sheryl watched his ass pumping up and down in long, impressive strokes. “Your pussy is wrapped around my...my cock and fucking it stupid...ohhh...”

“That’s right, slut,” Meghan purred, her voice losing its harshness as she strained her hips up to meet him. “Your slut cock is too big to let you think,” she gasped, still berating him even as he screwed her senseless. “All those nerves, all that sensation, shutting down your brain and turning you into my fucktoy, my mindless, helpless fucktoy, mmmm...”

“Your fucktoy,” Dan whispered, almost too softly to hear. “Fucktoy can’t think, cock too hard, feels too good, yes ma’am, yes please please please...”

“Cum for me, fucktoy,” Meghan moaned, probably loud enough to be heard a few tents away. Sheryl wondered if anyone else was hearing this, or if the others were all sound asleep. Not that she was about to ask. If nothing else, the metaphorical dick-measuring competition the boys had been having all day was bad enough without her mentioning that Dan’s cock was the biggest thing she’d seen outside of porn.

Dan pushed inside her one last time, the two of them straining together for long moments before they both collapsed. After a few minutes of silence, Sheryl decided to get some sleep as well.

The next morning, everyone went out for a little rafting trip while Ed and Frank cleaned up after breakfast. Thankfully, the inflatable boat held six, so Sheryl didn’t have to put up with arguments over which raft she was getting into, but there was a lot of ‘friendly’ bickering over who would sit next to her. Sheryl smiled politely, but inside she was starting to get a little bit sick of spinning plates. She just knew all the guys thought she was being a tease, but if it was the only alternative to simmering resentment for the rest of the week, she’d take it.

She wound up sitting next to Meghan, simply to defuse the tension. The other woman shot her a look, but Sheryl was used to that by now. She just climbed into the boat and grabbed her paddle. Joe looked behind him from his position up front with Bill and said, “Everybody wearing their floatation devices?”

Meghan cut in with, “Sheryl never takes hers off.” Everyone in the boat laughed. Except Sheryl, who wasn’t sure if she was more upset by Meghan making fun of her breasts or by the fact that Meghan took her joke.

She settled for saying, “Sorry, Meg, I’d lend them to you if I could.” She expected another venomous glare, but Meghan just rolled her eyes dismissively like she was being offered an off-the-rack knockoff of a designer dress. Sheryl smiled her innocent smile. Meghan could hide her envy all she wanted, but Sheryl had heard her in the bedroom. She was intimidated, and they both knew it.

They paddled across the lake, and Meghan and Sheryl declared an unspoken truce long enough to maneuver the raft to get some good pictures of a pod of pelicans. They even managed to smile at each other for a moment as they watched the birds squabble over a fish. “Those are males,” Joe said. “See how they’ve got that little protrusion on their beaks? That grows during mating season. They’re fighting over the fish to show the females how strong they are.”

Sheryl knew how the females felt. For that matter, she was starting to know how the fish felt.

Once they got back, they broke camp and headed further up the trail along the river. Their next campsite overlooked a beaver dam in the river valley below, and Sheryl spent much of the rest of the day watching for small furry animals. By some sort of private agreement, the boys left her pretty much alone. Probably by this point anyone approaching her would be torn to shreds by the others.

Sheryl sighed, remembering the innocent times just a few days ago when she pictured this trip as filled with tons of vacation sex and maybe even a boyfriend to take home with her. Instead, it looked like she was either going to have to take care of herself at night or turn into the camp pass-around. Even sneaking off was pretty much out of the question. Every guy knew where she was like she had a radio tracking collar on.

It wouldn’t be so bad if not for last night, Sheryl realized. Not that she got off on watching, or at least not that she’d ever watched on purpose, but she had Dan’s cock in the back of her head all day and it wasn’t going anywhere. Meghan might be a stone-cold castrating bitch, but she sure as hell could pick a husband.

That night, they went through the usual ritual of drawing straws. Dan and Ed drew dinner. Meghan drew the short straw for breakfast. Then Sheryl drew. There was an awkward silence as she looked at her straw.

It was short. But it might have been the one to break the camel’s back.

Sheryl woke up the next morning and made a resolution: She was going to clear the air with Meghan. It was bad enough that the guys were squabbling over her without having a private feud with the one person she could possibly talk to about it. Whatever bullshit jealousy Meghan had over her cup size, it was time to hash it out.

After breakfast, the boys went up past the dam to do a little swimming. Meghan sized up Sheryl with a glance, and leaned back in one of the camp chairs. “Alright,” she said. “Looks like you’ve got some washing up to do. Shouldn’t take long.”

Sheryl snapped. “What the fuck?” she said, stomping over to the camp chair and staring down Meghan with her full 5′11″ height. “Seriously, what the fuck is it with you? Honest to fucking god, you have been giving me shit this whole damn trip. I don’t care if you’re fucking jealous of my goddamn tits, you can fucking respect me as a person and, and...”

Sheryl trailed off into astonished silence as Meghan started laughing. Not just a little chuckle, but a long, hard, spluttering belly laugh that brought tears to Meghan’s eyes and made her contort her body uncontrollably. Every time it looked like she was about to get it together, she’d look up at Sheryl and start giggling all over again. She didn’t stop until she overbalanced and fell clean out of the camp chair.

“I’m sorry,” Meghan said, slowly getting back to her feet. “It’s just...jealous?” She had an incredulous look on her face. “Of your slut handles?” She reached out and hefted one of Sheryl’s breasts before Sheryl could stop her, bouncing it slightly in her hand like a water balloon. “I don’t think so, honey.”

Sheryl angrily reached to slap Meghan’s hand away, but the other woman saw it coming and pulled back. She reached out with her other hand, palming it over Sheryl’s right nipple. “My ‘slut handles’? Are you serious—hey! What the fuck!”

Meghan shrugged. “Just making a point, sweetie,” she said. Her eyes were hard and stony, exactly the way Sheryl imagined them looking when she talked to Dan in the tent the other night. “Great big cow titties like these, well...they’re a little too sensitive sometimes. When someone touches them like this, you start getting a little bit fuzzy. A little bit slow.”

“Fuck off!” Sheryl snarled, making a grab for Meghan’s hand. But the other woman was too fast again, pulling away from the now-erect nipple and darting in to stroke the exposed swell of skin where Sheryl’s cleavage came together.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Meghan said, her voice filled with the same certainty that it did when she talked to Dan. “Those slut knockers of yours are so distracting that you don’t even know where my hands are going.” Sheryl swatted down, but Meghan’s fingers had already moved away to pinch her nipples, first one then the other. “And then your thoughts start getting all slow and lazy, because those bouncy boobs don’t care who’s touching them or why. Me, I don’t have that problem. I can stay in control. You? You’re a titslut the second someone gets their hands on you. I’d say I have the better deal.”

Sheryl felt herself blushing furiously. “Your—your husband didn’t seem to think so,” she spat back, still swatting ineffectively at Meghan’s touches. She felt like she was playing Whack-a-Mole; every time she brushed the other woman’s hand away from one breast, she felt it caressing her somewhere else. “He couldn’t stop looking.”

“My husband?” Meghan responded in an amused tone. “He was just wondering if it was worth training you up as a housepet for me. I wasn’t so sure—seemed like a lot of work to keep you from running off with the first person to tug your titties—but I’m starting to think you need someone like me. Look at you—you’re already thinking with your tits, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“No, I’m nnnuhh!” Sheryl shrieked in surprise as Meghan’s hands snaked underneath the fabric of her t-shirt and pulled it up over her head. She struggled to push it back down, but Meghan took the opportunity afforded by her limited vision and obstructed reach to lean in and give her a long, slow lick right along the curve of her breast, and Sheryl took a step back in surprise and fell right over.

“See what I mean?” she heard Meghan whisper in her ear as the other woman yanked up the sports bra to expose Sheryl’s breasts to the morning air. “You’re so drunk on your own tits that you can’t even walk straight. All I needed to do was grab you by your slut handles and you melted like butter for me.” She matched her actions to her words, grabbing a handful of each breast and flicking the nipples with her thumbs until Sheryl was panting with arousal.

“Just like my Dan,” Meghan said, punctuating her words with hard, sucking kisses all over Sheryl’s breasts. “You think you’re smart, but then someone starts getting you all horny and all that sensation takes over. Isn’t that right, titslut?”

“I, no, I...” Sheryl squirmed and wriggled, trying to get the shirt off so she could at least get her hands free and push the other woman away. But Meghan was faster again—as soon as Sheryl got the t-shirt over her head and shoulders, Meghan pulled it down behind her and twisted the fabric around, trapping Sheryl’s hands behind her back and leaving her helpless. “Please, don’t...”

“Is that what your cow tits are telling you, Sheryl?” Meghan said, using her free hand to roam over Sheryl’s sensitive flesh. “Or are they telling you that I’m right? I think that’s what they’re saying. I think they’re telling you to stop thinking so you can get fucked properly. And I think your tits are much smarter than you are right now.”

Meghan fixed Sheryl with a hard stare and used the wrapped t-shirt to steer her onto her back. Once Sheryl was lying down, she slipped her hand free of the knotted fabric and returned it to Sheryl’s body. “Not that your tits are smart. But right now it doesn’t take much to be smarter than you, does it? you’re completely fucking stupid with lust, aren’t you, Sheryl? You’re so horny that even your tits are smarter than you are.”

Meghan reached down and slid one hand into Sheryl’s shorts while the other continued to tease and tickle her nipples. “Oh, I was right!” she purred, brushing her finger along the entrance to Sheryl’s pussy. “You did melt just like butter, little titslut!” She leaned down and kissed Sheryl on the lips, slipping her tongue into Sheryl’s mouth for a long moment before pulling back. “I want to hear you say it, titslut. Tell me you can’t think.”

“I...no, please, I...” Sheryl shook her head as though trying to dislodge Meghan’s words from her ears. She felt like she couldn’t move, like her mind was just as tangled up as her hands. If she just had a minute to think, even just a second, she could tell Meghan exactly why she was wrong and her tits—her breasts weren’t making her weak and horny, but every time she tried to collect her thoughts Meghan found another way to touch her and it all scattered away.

“Tell me, titslut,” Meghan said, nuzzling along Sheryl’s collarbone with her lips while her hands continued to relentlessly tease Sheryl’s body. “Just listen to those great big melons of yours telling you to shut up and let me fuck you, and tell me you can’t think.”

“I...please, I can’t think...” Sheryl moaned out, barely even aware that she was repeating Meghan’s words. She really couldn’t think, not with all the touching, all the sensation, all the aching need coursing through her tits and her pussy. She tried to remember that this was what Meghan did to Dan the other night, but all that did was remind her of how much she wanted to get laid with Dan’s great big cock and how horny she was even before Meghan started in on her.

“Good girl,” Meghan said, fluttering her finger across Sheryl’s clit. “Now tell me your tits control you.”

“I...” Sheryl felt the words like a weight on her tongue. She struggled to hold them in, but Meghan kept building the pleasure until Sheryl couldn’t remember anymore why saying them would be a bad thing. “My tits,” she gasped out. “My tits control me.”

Meghan smiled down at Sheryl, her eyes glittering with desire. “Good girl,” she said. “Your tits are doing all the thinking right now, my pretty little slut. And what do they want?”

Sheryl stared up at Meghan, her gaze going in and out of focus as the pleasure overwhelmed her. “They want to be touched,” she said, hearing that same mindless bliss in her own voice that she’d heard in Dan’s. How could she ever have thought they were fighting? “They want to be...ohhh...they want to be teased.”

“They’d let anyone touch you right now, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sheryl whispered. Dimly, she was aware of Meghan maneuvering her body onto all fours, helping her out of the shirt just long enough to move her hands around in front of her before tying it around her wrists tightly. She felt Meghan work her shorts down around her knees, exposing her sticky pussy to anyone who could see. None of it mattered. She was too horny to think right now.

“That makes you a horny little slut, doesn’t it? A slave to your cow tits?” Meghan pulled on her nipples as she spoke, tugging the low-hanging breasts just like the udders Sheryl knew they really were.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sheryl said. It was the only response she could think of now. She couldn’t argue, not with her slut handles making her so helpless to resist Meghan’s words and Meghan’s eyes and Meghan’s touch. She felt the truth of it all the way through her body. Her tits made her a helpless, obedient slut. Meghan didn’t have big tits. That gave her so much power over Sheryl. All Sheryl could do was obey Meghan now.

“Good girl,” Meghan whispered in her ear. Her warm breath sent shivers up Sheryl’s spine. “Now, titslut, I’m going to let you cum for me in a moment. When I do, you will know, deep down in those great big titties that are so much smarter and more powerful than your mind, that you need to let Meghan do all the thinking for you from now on. Whenever you start to disagree with me, your tits will remind you with pleasure that I’m always right because I don’t have big slut knockers to get in the way of my brain like you do.”

Sheryl nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she whimpered, grinding back against Meghan’s hand. “Yes ma’am, yes ma’am, yes ma’am...”

“Good girl,” Meghan said. “So ready to cum now. So horny, so mindless...” Sheryl quivered in arousal, her body shaking on the edge of orgasm. “Cum now, titslut. Cum for me, and let all that pleasure go. Cum for me. Cum.”

Sheryl wailed in ecstasy as she felt her pussy clench around Meghan’s fingers. She stared sightlessly forward, not even aware of her surroundings, as Meghan tugged and teased and tickled her slut handles to one orgasm after another. She heard Meghan speaking, heard herself repeating every word, but it wasn’t until she finally came down from the endless peaks of pleasure that she knew what she was saying.

“Meghan speaks, titslut obeys,” she heard herself chant over and over again. “Meghan speaks, titslut obeys...” Then her eyes slipped shut and she lost track even of that.

Joe led the others back into camp to find Meghan and Sheryl waiting for them with a slightly impatient look on their faces. “Sorry,” he said. “Dan was taking forever to get going for some reason, and—” He saw the look on Meghan’s face, and decided that excusing their delay by badmouthing her husband probably wasn’t going to improve the situation.

“It’s okay, it just gave us a little girl time,” Meghan said. “By the way, I have some good news for everybody—Sheryl has volunteered to do chores for the rest of the trip!”

The boys gave out a general cheer as Sheryl confirmed the news. “How’d you get her to agree to that?” Bill asked genially.

“I’m very persuasive when I want to be,” Meghan replied. “If there’s anything you want Sheryl to do while we’re out here,” Meghan said with a joking-not-joking wink, “you just come and see me.”

Sheryl let the words roll in one ear and out the other. She trusted Meghan to keep her safe, to keep her slutty titties under control and keep the boys in their place. Meghan would keep her horny tits satisfied, with her fingers and her tongue and maybe even Dan’s slut cock, until they could get home and she could take her place at Meghan’s feet. It sounded so perfect. She wondered why she hadn’t figured it out before now.

Probably because her breasts were too big.