The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. James Bock moped about the clinic, making everyone feel even worse than they did anyway. All the women had loved Janet. Long after she withdrew from the practice to bear and care for her and James’s four children, she remained a mother hen to the women of clinic staff. No one could understand why Janet allowed herself to become obese; it seemed beyond even James’s ability to control. Thin before her first pregnancy, she added more and more weight as James Jr., Clive, Sophia, and Susana arrived in quick succession. With increasing weight came less activity leading to still more weight gain.

A heart attack, unexpected, massive, definitive had taken her. James’s sadness affected Amaka most of all. As her culture and human feeling directed, she had stepped in to see to James’s and Janet’s children. The house Mamma kept for her and her brood was small, but Mamma’s heart was large and she smothered the little orphans with affection. They would be OK. It was James that worried Amaka.

The relation between a man and woman is mysterious, Amaka thought. “Good” marriages sometimes are hell from the inside. Men and women cling to partners that “everyone” knows are wrong for them, bound by love, desire, custom, who knows what? Amaka did not pretend to know what had gone on between James and Janet. I was another universe from the one she and James inhabited. In theirs, James was her master, as he was Janet’s, but they were also friends, business partners, lovers and parents of her children. Amaka felt herself married to James even though he went home to Janet every night and was married to neither. James made love to Amaka at the office frequently, usually more than once daily, more frequently, Amaka believed, than he made love to Janet, especially after she grew fat. In a way it was like the culture of her childhood homeland in which James had Janet as his Senior wife and she was his Junior. wife. The passion had gone from his relationship with Janet, only love, duty, or whatever it was that bound him, lingered.

Amaka was, therefore, surprised that Janet’s death had so devastated James. Only with immense will did he attend to clients, leaving Amaka to do virtually all of the seduction and conditioning of the women who continued to be sent to the clinic in increasing numbers. Certainly it affected their love making. The joy, the passion on the infrequent occasions was gone. Amaka felt James had transferred to her the obligatory sex he had with his deceased partner.

James stopped having sex with the other women of the clinic completely. It hurt them all, but especially Suzie and Megan, the youngest women who were highly sexed. Amaka made a few adjustments in James’s conditioning of them so that they could at least find some release in sex with each other, but she could not erase their desire for James himself.

This could not go on. It would not be easy. She might not succeed. But she had to try.

When James halfheartedly suggested sex with her in the office the next Friday evening, Amaka for the first time said no. She waited to see if he would take her. If he wished, he could fill her with an overpowering desire that would make refusal unthinkable. He could make her body move at his pleasure even if her mind remained unconvinced. His did neither, but only looked at her, puzzled.

“Pick me up at my house Saturday night at 8:00, darling. I’ve made plans for dinner. It’s rather formal” Again Amaka waited to see if he would go along. If he didn’t want to, he could just make her forget all about the arrangements. She had guessed right.

“OK. Why not?” James grinned almost shyly. It was the first smile of any kind Amaka had seen since Janet’s death.

Saturday was a busy day. A lot was riding on this night, the happiness not only of her and James, but of many others. James could make many things right, or, if she failed, leave dozens of people, himself included, in misery. Amaka was glad she was a woman. She had the insight and, she hoped, the charms to make it happen.

Amaka had concluded that James felt guilty about Janet’s death, but perhaps even more about her life. He had used his powers, not maliciously, but irresponsibly. He had only just stumbled onto his strange ability when he met Janet. She was the first woman whose life he had remade. Although Janet must have loved James over and above his power over her and though she had lived for the children she had with him, her life had been wrenched too far from her own goals. James probably never thought he would fall in love with the woman whose life he had turned upside down. James could give her unbelievable pleasure, but he could not make her totally happy. Now he never could.

Most of James clients were probably happier for his interventions in their lives, but there were a few who had also suffered from James’s use of his powers. Amaka suspected that Janet’s death had reminded James of his culpability in those cases, too. He needed to face what he had done, but he had to get beyond it without hating himself. That was her task.

The element of surprise would be important. Fortunately, James knew Amaka only as a beautiful, if exotic, woman who had fallen somewhat accidentally into his power. Typically for a man, he had not been too curious about the woman who had shared her body with him for the last four years. It was time he learned some things.

“I want him to fall in love me, Mamma,” Amaka explained.

“He already loves you, child.”

“That’s what he thinks, too, but not totally. I want it all. Give me juju, Mamma.”

“It’s dangerous girl. Juju could make you evil and manipulative.”

“No, Mamma. Just give me the good juju”

“Juju isn’t good or bad, Amaka. It draws its power from what is in your heart. If your motives are even a little bad, the juju will be evil and that evil will be multiplied many fold.”

“I have to try, Mamma.”

“Oh, Amaka! Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Mamma.”

“Amaka you are my first born daughter. I can’t believe anything bad of you. If you want to use juju, I will do as you say.”

Mamma went to the corner and pulled a key from her bosom to unlock the ancient chest. Carefully she withdrew several small carved wooden objects. Amaka knew what she had to do and had brought out candles, arranging them in an ellipse with a mat in the center. Amaka stripped and lay naked, perfectly still on the mat, waiting. Mamma went round the ring of candles, lighting each and repeating a chant. Then she danced around the circle of burning tapers, rolling her ample hips and singing softly, before stepping across the invisible threshold. With great precision, Mamma passed one and another of the idols over Amaka’s body. The final one she passed three times around each breast and three times around Amaka’s mound, intoning the age-old ritual. When she finished Amaka was deeply entranced.

Mamma smiled down at her sleeping daughter, the mother of her four grandchildren, still her little girl. “Time to get up, honey. Let’s do something with that hair. You need some practical juju, too.”

It hurt when Mamma knotted her hair into scores of tight plaits. Into each she wove in a piece or two of tinsel. It was a five hour job, but when she finished, both women were pleased with the results. Amaka went to her bath and soaked a long while, allowing the oils and unguents to be absorbed by her soft skin. When she emerged, she shown.

Naked, Amaka went to her closet and removed a garment from a back shelf where it had remained for years, awaiting such an occasion. The noble fabric responded to the touch of an iron and became as new. Amaka slipped on a diaphanous blue brassiere and a pair of navy thong panties and began to dress. Carefully she wound the Ukmoh around her shapely hips and drew the top in the same fabric over her breasts and shoulders. It took several adjustments to get the scalloped hem even with her ankle bones as Mamma had taught her. Mamma helped coil the matching Ubaletu around her shining black plaits and fluffed it until it added four or five inches to her height. Amaka examined herself in the mirror approvingly while Mamma looked on with pride. The craft of five hundred generations of African women had perfected this look. She would be irresistible

Mamma opened the door for James and ushered him to the living room to wait. Perhaps she was unaware of the psychology of making a man a little impatient before Amaka made a dramatic entrance. James was just slightly startled when Amaka greeted him from the doorway, “Good evening, darling.”

James was stunned. Amaka had been working for him over four years. He had been fucking her exactly as long, although they had been making love for a shorter period. He had seem her daily. He had seen her in cute mini skirts, in elegant tailored suits, in the sexy smocks she wore around the office, in hot pants and bikinis, and of course in nothing at all. Now as looked at her, it was if he had never seen her before, never.

Could this be the woman he worked with every day? Standing before him was a princess or a queen. An empress or a goddess! James could not take his eyes off the vision that had addressed him. Speech was impossible. His eyes caressed her from head to foot. The garment she wore was a deep yet somehow brilliant blue, a blue of sky that can only be seen from high mountains at twilight. Unsurprisingly, in that crepuscular background, gold studs and inlays sparkled like the first stars in the firmament when the sum has not yet yielded his dominion to night. A headdress of the same resplendent cloth adorned her head. The light caught and thrown back by the inlays made it a diadem.

James scarcely heard as Mamma told the elegant couple to have fun, that the children would be fine and ushered them out. As she closed the door, she said silent prayer to Ussa, et Fillis, and the Holy Spirit.

Amaka took James’s arm and allowed him to escort her to the car, open the door for her, and see that she was seated. Hardly daring to look at his beautiful companion, James was heading in the direction of the city before he remembered to ask where they were going. Amaka told him to drive to the river front. James was puzzled, knowing there were no restaurants in that area. Nevertheless, he let Amaka direct him to park and lead him to the wharf.

A long ramp led to a brightly lighted deck of a dinner cruse ship. Amaka had timed their arrival well and only minutes later the vessel weighed anchor and eased into the deeper waters of mid river, quickly leaving behind the built-up parts of the city. Cocktails and canapés soon gave way to a full dinner with dozens of other couples.

James and Amaka didn’t talk much over dinner; James because he couldn’t; Amaka because it wasn’t necessary. As he gazed at her, not able to get his fill of looking, the words and images of the classic music video came back to him. Like Whitney Houston, Amaka could say, “I’m every woman; it’s all in me.” It was an epiphany; it was time to dance.

The band struck up a Latin beat and James and Amaka took center stage on the floor. As the combo pumped out the Salsas and Meringues of Carlos Vives and Niche, James marveled at his partner. Of course her dancing was superb. But Amaka put a wiggle in her hips and a subtle contortion into the movements of her belly that reminded everyone of the Afro-Caribbean origins of this music.

The panting couples were taking a break from hard driving techno-rock when the ship reached its southernmost point and swung round, allowing those on both sides to view the long incline up on the Virginia side towards Mt. Vernon, brilliantly illuminated for the benefit of the dinner dancers.

On the way back, the orchestra wisely switched to ballads of the ‘60s and ‘70s that put everyone in a mellower mood. As the liner pulled to within sight of the Washington Monument, the music had drifted farther back to Hoagie Carmichael and Cole Porter. James was holding Amaka very close and they swayed, almost asleep in each other’s arms, to the magical old lyrics.

It was well past midnight when the last of the happy couples descended the gangplank, most looking more at each other than at where they were going. James thought Amaka had never felt softer, had never fit more perfectly into his arms, as if she had always been there. If, that is, the world had even existed before. Was this not the first night of a newly created Earth, a terrestrial paradise that might be lost, but never again equaled? James dreaded for this night to end. Reluctantly he pointed the car toward Amaka’s house in upper Northeast.

“Not that way, darling,” she smiled.

James looked at the lovely woman at his side, not knowing how to believe his good fortune. He started to ask her something, but Amaka stopped his lips with a kiss.

“Home, James,” she ordered.

Amaka seemed to have no shyness, walking into the stately home James had shared with Janet. Without having to ask, she led James to the bedroom. She allowed him to watch as she removed the Ubaletu and shook her plaits free. He stared in fascination as she untied the Ukmoh and let it drop to the floor. He didn’t have to wait long before she shed the bra and panties and began undressing him.

They made love. James had believed he had made love to Amaka many times. He now realized that he was wrong. They had only had loving, tender sex. It had been wonderful sex, but nothing like this. “James, James, oh my love, Oh James, James” Amaka sobbed between orgasms.

James could only repeat her name like a mantra, “Amaka, Amaka, Amaka, Amaka” his voice, too, broken with feeling as he thrust himself deep into the woman clinging to him. “One flesh” The old Biblical phrase flashed into James’s mind. It had always struck him as material and crude. Now he knew it was but a literal description of what his and Amaka’s bodies sought—coupling, joining, fusion, a melting together, a perfect union.

A terrible tenderness came over James as he felt Amaka drift off to sleep. She lay cradled in his arms, so perfectly trusting, snuggling closer as her breathing grew soft. Did any man deserve this trust; did he; could he earn it? He never wanted her to leave his side. As James drowsily held the now sleeping woman, he realized that not only had he and Amaka never made love before, they had never slept together. “Sleep together.” It was much so much more than a euphemism for having sex. It was a totally different way of making love, one in which the elbows and the backs of the legs, the knees and the shoulder blades, could participate for hour after hour, long after the genitals no longer touched.

The last thing James remembered before going to sleep was Amaka’s hair tickling his nose. He could have flicked it aside, but decided he would rather just fold her into the crook of his body. The first thing he saw in the next morning was Amaka’s smiling face. Compared to this moment, he had never been happy before. Tears filled his eyes. “I love you so much, Amaka.”

“And I love you,” she replied. “You are a good man, James, worthy of a woman’s love. You must believe that and not keep torturing yourself over Janet.”

“But I ...” Amaka stifled his protest with a kiss.

“Whatever you did, Love, is done. Janet left you four children whom she loved above anything. The best thing you can do is give them their daddy back. Look,”

Amaka clapped her hands and two by two the children filed in. Amaka’s children, being used to constant coming and goings since they were babies, were more outgoing than Janet’s. Ifi led James Jr. by the hand even though he was several months her senior. Efe tugged at the shy Clive. Little Jerome and Sophia were already best friends and playmates and followed their brothers and sisters in without coaxing. Mamma entered last holding the babies, Leroy and Susana.

As James looked from one to the other, he was consumed by love for them all. He knew that he had to remake a life for them as well as for the wonderful creature lying at his side.

“They’re all here“ James stated, somewhat foolishly, but Amaka understood what he meant.

“Of course, darling. Mamma brought them last night. This is their home. It’s our home. They have a wonderful Mamma, but they need mother and father.”

It took a few days to work out the sleeping arrangements and a routine to get everyone bathed and fed in the mornings and still permit James and Amaka to get to the clinic by 10:00 AM or so. The nature of the practice changed. James and Amaka became even more equal partners. Now they never took a client just because his or her partner wanted a subservient sex maniac. They interviewed the couple carefully and made the adjustments necessary, usually to both.

Amaka did not need to tell James what to do about the ex-clients. Over many weeks and months he made calls, tracking down people and getting them into the clinic for business, but within a year things were falling into place.

It had not been easy to locate Kathy Black. James was appalled at finding her in a housing project struggling to support six children by four different men. When they heard her story, however, Kate and Bill Jenkins of NAP (National Association of People) had no trouble deciding they wanted Kathy to head up their legal staff. Kathy was surprised how old Bill Atturbury had changed and after making him court her assiduously for several months agreed to marry him.

Bill Atturbury could have been their grandfather, but Pauline, Carlitos, Chun and Chan , and Malcolm Jr. couldn’t have been more delighted. He read them stories, and played horsy, and could make an elephant sound that never failed to set them giggling hilariously. This was so much more fun than running a conglomerate, Bill turned his remaining interests over to Trent. He took Pauline and Carlitos to pre-school and even found changing the diapers of Susana and Martin Luther hugely satisfying.

As much as he adored these children, however, Bill begged Kathy to let him get her pregnant just one more time so they could have one baby of their own. Kathy told him he must be out of his mind. It could have been cause for a row, but they loved each other too much to argue over numbers. Eventually Kathy compromised on three.

When James called, Angelica supposed that he had decided it was time to give her another child. She was puzzled when, instead, he asked her to send Robert to the clinic for another visit. Wonderful “after sales service,” she laughed to herself in the days and nights that followed . Angelica loved the improvements in Robert. He was as sweet as ever, but seemed somehow more imaginative in his lovemaking. He no longer just waited around to please his ever-horny wife, but took more initiative, fucking her at times and in places that Angelica wouldn’t have thought of. Angelica would have to thank James personally when she saw him next.

Another motive for seeing James intervened. “What’s going on, James? I’ve missed my period.” Angelica demanded, more than a little annoyed.

“Do you need to ask what that means?” James replied, amused.

“It’s not funny, James” Angelica snapped. “Why treat me like that? I never deny you. I enjoy letting you get me pregnant. There was no reason to get me down to the clinic, impregnate me and then make me forget the whole thing!”

“You haven’t been to the clinic, Angelica and I didn’t get you pregnant.

“Then who did?”

“How should I know?” James teased. “Have you been sleeping around?”

“No, you bastard, only with ...” She stopped and rapidly counted the days. She had been ovulating soon after Robert’s visit to James’s clinic. A look of consternation spread over her face. “But that’s impossible.”

“I reversed Robert’s vasectomy, Angelica, and told him about our now defunct arrangement. I’m sure Robert will be very happy to find he’s going to be a father for the first time.”

“My god! I’m as horny as ever. So from now on I’ll have to take precautions?”

“That’s up to you, but don’t expect too much help from Robert. Under the circumstances I can bet he will be wanting to make up for lost time.”

Malcolm Foster was mad as hell. He had been waiting in this damned doctor’s office for forty five minutes. He could be out on the street dealing. This delay was costing him money over $1500, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t here of his own free will.

Everything had started going wrong for Malcolm several months ago when his favorite woman, that horny white bitch named Kathy had been snatched out of his life. He had had made with her. She craved sex and by giving or withholding his woman pleaser, he had made her a virtual sex slave. The oversexed slut had learned to cook for him better than any of his black girlfriends and she had let him make her pregnant twice. Malcolm had been thinking it was time she started working on another little bastard when everything changed. He didn’t underhand how she suddenly was able to laugh off his bullying and then get some rich white man screwing her. Even before the old bastard married her, he installed Kathy in a fancy apartment with security that didn’t let Malcolm in.

Malcolm though his luck had turned when Horse Jones and the other four Wizards starters showed up at his house one day. He quickly learned his mistake. It was funny, they seemed to know all about him. “Kathy tells me you like white girls,” Horse said a little menacingly.

“Sure, Bro’,” Malcolm replied nervously. “Them white bitches really likes a nice big piece of black meat.”

“And I believe you’ve said that you like to ‘get a horny a white woman so addicted to my cock she’ll let me make her pregnant,’ or word to that effect?” asked “Jumper” Bradford

“Uh ... sure,” Malcolm answered truthfully, but growing apprehensive about this line of questioning.

“Well, that real convenient,” remarked Rufus Prescott

“Because we’ve got just the girl for you.” continued “Apple” Appleby

“Drop those pants, my friend. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to keep a hungry woman satisfied,” Jumper ordered. Malcolm was a big man, but no more than any one of these five LARGE black men. He decided to comply. The team made a quick assessment of Malcolm’s crotch assets and went into a huddle.

“It’s worth asking her, I guess,” said Rufus.

“Come in here, Ethel, baby,” Apple called. “What do you think?”

A thin redhead in hot pants appeared in the door. Ethel Patterson appraised Malcolm carefully, paying especially close attention to the zone between his legs, then grinned. “I’ll take him.”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a new girlfriend,” smiled Horse.

“What are you talking about, man?” Malcolm objected, looking over the woman who was looking him over. “That ain’t no woman. that’s a scarecrow! Look at her! Hell, I’ve seen bigger tits on a gnat. And her rear end! There ain’t enough meat on her scrawny ass for a man to sink his teeth into.” Malcolm protested.

“Sorry you feel that way,” Rufus frowned. “We were hoping to find someone to take a very enthusiastic lady off our hands. Coach says she’s wearing us out.” The others nodded in agreement.

“What’s going on?” Ethel objected. “You told me you knew someone who could keep me happy.”

“He will, baby. He will,” Apple reassured her. “Just be patient.

“You obviously don’t know a good thing when it looks you in the eye, my friend,” Horse lectured with the full support of his team mates. “I guess you’d better go talk to a friend or ours. Here’s the telephone number. Ask for an appointment with Dr. Bock and tell them Horse sent you.” Malcolm had understood that he was not free to ignore the suggestion. That’s why he was sitting here, in this funny looking room, waiting to see some dumb women’s doctor.

“You can come in now, Mr. Foster.” said a tall beautiful back woman. Malcolm again thought his luck was about to change. This time, he was right.

Several weeks later Malcolm was lying somewhat dazed and exhausted, looking up into the shining eyes of the lithe redhead who straddled him. It always amazed him that a woman who weighed no more than Ethel could drain him the way she did. No matter how many times he made her cum, she kept demanding more and more until he was a noodle. “Oh, is that all?” Ethel asked, never able to hide completely her disappointment when Malcolm petered out. “Is my ‘tweet chocolate popcicle all tired-y poo?” she continued, slipping into baby talk. Malcolm was drifting off. “Tweetie,” she asked pensively. “How would ‘ou wike doing me doggie?”

It was like mentioning food to someone after a big meal. Malcolm groaned. The woman was insatiable! “Oh, baby, I’d love to, but not right now.”

“Oh, I know ‘at. Wight now my widdle boy is going to take a wong nappy so tomowow he will be big and twong again,” Ethel reassured, obviously referring more to Malcolm’s limp cock than to him. “Mamma Ethel means would ‘ou wike to do her the doggie way all the time for the last month or two?”

Malcolm had been having trouble paying attention. Even when she didn’t have him fucked him out, Ethel’s baby talk made him sleepy, but the implication of her question suddenly brought him fully awake. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise. If she weren’t a proper wife and mother, the expression on Mrs. Ethel Foster’s face would have to be called a shit eating grin.

“’At’s wight, ‘ou naughty boy. ‘Ou put that bid old bwack baby-maker in a bewey of ‘ou’s bwand new widdle white bwide once too often duwing our honeymoon. Now ‘ou’ll just have to suffer the consequences!” she teased.

Malcolm was too happy to say anything as Ethel looked down at him, as if awaiting his reply. “Ouuuh!” she brightened. “I’ll take that as ‘yes,’” she said and began to hump up and down again on Malcolm’s reviving cock.

“Hell, no I’m not paying more than 6 cents a MCF for Bangladeshi gas. If they don’t want to sell at that price, tell them they can build the damned pipeline!” Trent Atturbury snapped, punching off his cellular so hard it might be damaged. Life was funny , he thought. The last thing he ever expected in life was being saddled with his father’s business. Unless it was enjoying the hell out of it! Trent had wanted to be a writer, moving words around on paper. Moving men and money around the world turned out to be much more fun!

The turn of events in Trent’s life was almost unbelievable. First his father had gone off the deep end over Kathy, an old girlfriend of his, a welfare mother with a houseful of children. Then Daddy decided to chuck the business and turn everything over to him so he could play daddy to Kathy’s kids and a growing number of his own rug rats. The horny old goat had just gotten Kathy pregnant again.

As a condition of giving Trent control of a multi-billion dollar empire, however, Daddy had insisted Trent see some kind of psychologist, a Ms. Amaka Ebe, to “put some spine” in his formerly wishy-washy personality. Well, wishy-washy he was no longer, at least not in the office. Better still, however, through Amaka, Trent had met an incredible woman!

Ayo was a member of Amaka’s family. Trent didn’t understand exactly what the relationship was. Months ago he had accepted Ayo’s advice that their liaison remain a secret among his business colleagues. “I’m not a woman you take out,” she had told him with a grin. “I’m a woman to come home to.” He knew what she meant. Not that she was black and he was white; he would have killed anyone who made that an issue, but the difference in their ages and her girth would have raised some eyebrows. Ayo had the body of a woman who had lived and loved quite a few years longer than Trent. She was built on the “Aunt Jemima” model—the original, not the Naomi Campbell look-alike.

No one knew it, but Ayo was his other half. Outgoing where Trent was withdrawn, passionate when he was too analytic, patient when he would jump to conclusions, keeping in mind the big picture where he could be lost in detail. Ayo knew nothing about the oil and gas business, but she had saved his company from several big mistakes with her insights.

Most important, Ayo loved Trent. She loved him enough to make him tell her everything. When she asked, “How was work?” she expected, and got, a full, blow by blow recounting. She beamed with pride at Trent’s triumphs, grew angry or dismissive of his conflicts, comforted him in occasional failures. Whatever happened, she was on his side, encouraging him, having more faith in him than he sometimes had in himself. Whether in happiness or despair, Ayo always told him he was wonderful and made him believe it by making love to him. hot, heavy, passionate love.

Nothing ever seemed to dampen Ayo’s spirits, so when Trent found her crying one evening, he was more than surprised, he was alarmed. He had never needed to comfort her before. It was not easy to take the large woman into his arms, but her consternation made her slip into his embrace. She lay her head on his chest and sobbed. “Oh, Trent, darling, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t intend for it to happen; you’ve got to believe me. I’m afraid of what you’ll say and I’ll do it if you tell me to, but it’s wrong and I don’t want to.”

“Ayo, Ayo. What’s wrong? What could you possible have done to need my forgiveness? Did you damage something? That Bukara in the living room? Don’t be silly. This is now your house as much as mine.”

“No Trent, it’s not the carpet; it’s ... it’s everything. I’ve messed up. I just didn’t think it could still happen; I thought I was too old.”

“Ayo, honey, you’re not making sense. What do you mean you thought you were too old, that you’ve messed up everything?”

“Our life, Trent. I messed it up by getting pregnant and its yours and I don’t want to get an abortion. Please let me keep it. I’ll move out and never bother you about it, but please let me keep your baby.” Her words poured out in a single breath.

“Oh, Ayo, honey! Trent almost shouted. “This is the most wonderful news you could have given me. I was worried something was wrong with me. You don’t know how jealous I’ve been of James and your niece or whatever she is. They’ve got four already and she expecting again. Now we are going to have a baby, too.”

Ayo looked up at Trent, relief and adoration in her still tear-filled eyes. “You mean it? You want to have a baby? With a big old woman like me? You want to make me fatter?

“You are not ‘fat,’ Ayo. You’re round, and every pound you’ve put on since you were Amaka’s age had gone to places men like to see them. If the baby takes after you, we’re going to have the handsomest boy or the most gorgeous little girl imaginable. Who have you told?”

“Nobody, I was afraid you’d make me ...”

“You don’t know me as well as you think, if you believed I would let you, much less make you abort a baby, even if the baby were not mine. Case closed. Get up and call Amaka to tell her she’s going to have a new little cousin.”

“What do you mean, ‘cousin?’” Don’t you know, Trent? Amaka’s not my niece, she’s my daughter. She’s going to have a new little brother or sister.”

“Ayo, this is so wonderful! Yesterday I was an unattached though spoken for male; now I’m going to be a father. And I guess I’m Amaka’s father in law and I’ve got grandchildren! There’s just one more thing I need.”

“What are you talking about?” Ayo asked, amused by Trent’s strange, expansive ideas of family.

“I need a wife.”

Bloody inconvenient, Col. Steve L. thought. Not that he was unhappy that his wife had let him make her pregnant again. He loved seeing Donna, who was so active and trim, gradually slow down and plump up when she was having a baby. He even loved making love to her when she was pregnant, at least he supposed he did. All he could actually remember from their nights together was lying at her side, stroking her swollen belly, gently sucking and kissing her laden tits and sometimes tonguing her to one orgasm after another. But they must make love. Steve Jr., two, Drucilla, one, and Donna’s expanding belly was proof of that.

Still it was bloody inconvenient. Why did it have to happen that every time he got Fantastic Female pregnant, Donna turned up pregnant, too?

Paul Graves was surprised to get a call from a Dr. James Bock. It took him a minute to recall the strange doctor who a few years ago had fixed that junior partner in his firm so she would fuck him. Kathy, he seemed to remember her name. She had really been hot, couldn’t get enough of him. He had enjoyed her until he got her pregnant and he had moved on. That was about the time that Betty had found out about his affairs. She had walked into Paul’s office one afternoon to find his secretary carefully positioned over an arm chair with Paul fucking her like blazes.

Funny, after Betty had divorced him and he was free to screw any woman he wanted to, it turned into a bore. Finding them, telling them the same damned funny stories, taking them to the same restaurants and back to his apartment, fucking them for a few weeks and then getting rid of them—always the most difficult part. Where was the fun in that?. Sometime he even missed Betty. She was certainly a lot more interesting to talk to that the bimbos he picked up.

This was pretty strange. The doctor suggested they meet at a downtown club. Paul was inclined to say no, but James suggested he had a new woman he wanted to introduce to Paul. What the hell? Paul agreed. He had never been very good at guy-to-guy talk, but he found that after a few beers, it was really easy to open up to Dr. Bock. Paul was telling the doctor things he never had really thought of before—how tired he was of the meaningless conquests of airheads, how he missed his children, how he even missed having a woman who was his equal, who looked out for his interests, who would tell him he was full of shit when he was, who didn’t think his beer belly “was cute.”

“I’ve got just the woman for you” James said.

Perhaps there was some surreptitious signal or perhaps it was Kismet. Just them Paul Graves glanced over towards the entrance of the club and saw her standing there. At first he didn’t recognize her. His eyes met hers and his mouth dropped. Slowly she walked toward him. It was Betty, but ... but .... Paul had never seen her like this, at least not for years. She had on a tight-fitting off-white dress cut five or six inches above her knee. The matching heels gave a roll to her hips that drove him crazy. As she drew closer he noticed the kind of large, flashy earrings he had wanted her to wear for years. Since the last time he had seen her, she had lost inches around the waist without reducing her ample hips and eye-popping boobs. If “babe” could be applied to a woman almost fifty, Betty was a babe.

Paul was so struck by seeing Betty again he hadn’t noticed she wasn’t alone. “Good evening, Paul, James. May I introduce my friend, Arnold.”

A tall muscular blonde stuck out his had to shake. “Hi.” he smiled.

Paul was struck silent again. As he shook hands with the young man he tried to place the face. He had seen it before. My god! This was the himbo that had appeared on TV with Sen. Finger. Instantly everything was clear. Betty had gotten herself sexy as hell again and now had this hunk fucking her lights out.

“Hello, Arnold. What is your line of endeavor?” Paul said, trying to be civil.

The smile faded from the young man’s face and he looked at Betty for help. “Arnold is a handy man,” Betty explained. “At least I find him very handy. Hope you’re keeping well, Paul. Now if you’ll excuse us ....” Betty took Arnold’s hand and led him away to a corner booth.

“Amaka is bringing your date. I can’t imagine what is keeping them,” James remarked. Paul wasn’t listening. He was staring through the dim light to see what his wife, well, his ex-wife was doing with the young man. They had been kissing for about two minutes non stop and Betty was starting to squirm. Paul thought he could see Betty’s short skirt rucked up closer to her crotch as she spread her legs. From her movements it was pretty evident where Arnold’s hand had gone and what it’s line of endeavor was. Presently, several other patrons glanced over at the moans and grunts coming from the couple in the corner booth where a woman in a short white dress appeared to be having an orgasm.

“Ah, here they are,” James boomed, not seeming to pay attention to the spectacle over in the corner. Reluctantly Paul turned his attention to James and the two women who had just walked in. One was tall, black, and .very beautiful. The other was a shorter cute blonde about 25.

“Sorry we’re late, darling,” said the taller woman as she kissed James.

“Paul, this is my wife, Amaka and Megan. Megan works in our office.

“I answer the ‘phones for Dr. Bock.” Megan put in.

Drinks arrived and James inched close to Amaka. The lovers began whispering softly to each other. Paul was left to pretend to listen to Megan’s chatter as he tried to see the action in the corner booth. James, Amaka, and Megan were the only people in the club who seemed oblivious to what was going on. Betty had thrown her head back on the seat. Her eyes were closed and sheer ecstasy rippled across her face. Her blouse was open and Arnold’s face was buried in her well endowed bosom. If Betty had come with a bra, it was no longer extant. From the way her tits had jiggled as she walked in, Paul was convinced she hadn’t worn one. Arnold appeared to be sucking one tit and them the other without removing his hand from between Betty’s legs. She was whinnying in rut.

“You wanna dance?” Megan asked her distracted partner. He didn’t, of course, but anything was better than the torture of watching his wife, well, his ex wife, getting fondled and finger fucked. The music was some strange mixture of keyboard with lots of electronic rhythm, far too fast. Paul didn’t really know what to do out on the floor. The other dancers were just gyrating. Paul tried to gyrate, too, but didn’t do it as well as Megan.

Objectively speaking, Megan was a sexy little thing. She had big boobs that bounced in syncopation to the music. Paul didn’t understand how she could dance like that in what must have been five inch heels, but supposed she had had lots of practice. The provocative way her hips wiggled ought to have had him plotting how to get her out of that red miniskirt and his prick into her no doubt juicy little cunt. She was pretty, sexy, and not too bright—just his type. But for some reason Paul felt no attraction to her at all. He would have been worried about his age and hormone levels had he not realized he still had an erection from watching Arnold orgasm his wife, well, his ex-wife.

Because he wasn’t good at this ridiculous excuse for dancing, Paul was tiring rapidly just as Megan seemed to be getting warmed up. She was flinging one arm and then the other into the air and letting out intermittent jungle-like cries. Soon every man in the club except James was staring. Even Arnold took a break from working on Betty’s twat to look. Betty, too, sat up to see what had caused the interruption in Arnold’s wonderful service and grinned at the sight.

Recovering rapidly from twenty or more minutes of uninterrupted foreplay, Betty nudged Arnold to lead her to the floor. Arnold was happy to comply as this brought him closer to the wild little blonde. If having trouble keeping up with the contortions of his partner was humbling for Paul, seeing his wife, well, his ex-wife, start performing an only slightly less frenetic version of whatever Megan was doing, was acutely embarrassing. Where the hell had the woman learned to dance like that? When Betty ground her hips and jiggled her tits, she had a lot more to grind and jiggle than the girl.

Perhaps sensing that a riot might break out if the hot little blonde’s and her older companion’s display of blatant sexuality wasn’t curbed, the band switched to a ‘70s ballad. Megan deflated like an untied balloon, disoriented by the slower 4/6 beat. Paul tried to lead, but Megan was hopeless. Glancing over, Paul saw that Betty was in the same predicament.

“Do you mind?” Paul asked smoothly, dropping Megan’s hand and tapping the young man on the shoulder. Neither Arnold or Megan had ever heard of “cutting in” but the maneuver went off without a hitch. Arnold and Megan were left staring at each other, not knowing what to do, as Paul swept off with his wife, well, his ex-wife.

“My god what a spectacle you were making of yourself!” Paul whispered between clenched teeth, hiding his ire from the other dancers behind a broad smile.

“What about yourself, darling?” Betty hissed. “You were perfectly ridiculous clomping around to a techno-beat.”

“I mean over at the booth! At least she wasn’t giving me a blow job in public.”

“Don’t complain to me. You were the one who had the way with the ladies all these years.”

“If you’d dressed and looked as hot as you do tonight, I wouldn’t have been chasing skirts.”

“When did you ever invite me to a place like this, where a woman who looks like a woman is appreciated? The only place you ever took me was to those damned cocktail parties with your corporate clients,” Betty shot back. “Well, looks like you have a woman with the proportions you like.”

“What do you mean? You’ve got the proportions I like, babe.”

“I mean the little blonde. Looks like her bust size exceeds her age which exceeds her IQ.”

The other dancers marveled as the suave gentleman and his elegantly sexy dance partner glided around the floor, unaware of the exchange of vituperation passing between the smiling couple.

“But I’ll take that as a compliment, anyway. Thank you.” Betty continued, slightly mollified.

“I mean it, babe. I’ve never seen you looking so good.”

“Not having to put up with you had given me more time to spend on myself,” Betty explained, icily.

“Well, what can I say? Did you had to leave me to become the woman I’ve always wanted?”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you wanted?

“Well, I did, didn’t I? I’m sure I told you I liked a woman in heels and earrings and you don’t need to be told men like to see a woman’s legs.”

“You told me how you liked ‘a woman’ to dress. You never told me that you’d love to see ‘me’ dressed that way. I wanted to be your wife, Paul, not your whore. Why didn’t you ever send me any of those flowers I kept finding receipts for?” Betty was sobbing softly now and had snuggled into Paul’s arms.

“Oh baby! I was so stupid running after sex from all those chicks, but I never loved anyone but you.”

“Paul, darling, I want to believe that so much.”

“Elizabeth, my love. Please come back to me. Give me a change to prove I love you every day for the rest of my life.”

James and Amaka like everyone else in the club were riveted on the couple standing in the middle of the dance floor, no longer moving, crying into each other’s arms. Amaka leaned over and kissed James approvingly. Then she noticed Arnold and Megan over in the corner booth. Arnold appeared to be sucking one tit and them the other without removing his hand from between Megan’s legs. She was whinnying in rut. Amaka leaned over and kissed James again.