The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Carolina had cracked around nine. She hadn’t had anyone to play with all day, and it had been torture; she’d masturbated, tried to do some work, masturbated again. In the early evening she had skyped her boyfriend in Colombia, and they had both pleasured themselves, but that hardly scratched the surface. She wished she’d taken some phone numbers at the lab; the only one she had was Dan, the other postgrad, and she figured he’d be in bed with his girlfriend.

A couple of glasses of wine to the good, an idea started took root in her mind. She had never gone out on the pull on her own; she had no idea how to go about it. She had been hit on in bars often enough, though. With her looks it was not uncommon. The men in this country were much less forward than what she was used to at home, but still, she didn’t do badly.

What’s the story, then? she wondered. I can’t just say I’ve come out looking for a fuck.

She wandered into the bedroom, and opened her wardrobe. Little dress, she thought. Got to be a little dress. She went straight to the sexy end of her wardrobe, and her hand found a skintight black number that she had bought because she loved the idea of wearing it, but which she had never worn because, well…

Too slutty, she thought. But… well… Tonight there was no “too slutty”, was there? If the point was to get fucked, then maybe that’s exactly what she needed, what she was.

Christ, she realised, Tonight I’m a slut.

The thought sent a bolt of arousal through her. Her pulse racing now, she threw off her t-shirt, and shrugged her jeans and panties to the floor.

And panties? She looked at them; Well, with any luck I won’t be needing them.

Her naked body was incredible, there was no denying it. Her breasts had always been wide, but now they seemed somehow fuller, rounder. The waist was perfect, her belly flat and toned, before it flared out to her beautiful, round hips. That dress…

She took it off the hanger and hurriedly pulled it on. Hot. Strapless, but held in place by the curve of her breasts; skintight with two mesh panels on either side, which made the absence of panties clearly visible. She looked magnificent: she couldn’t help pouting at the mirror.

Was it legal? Her aureolae were completely covered, although the her nipples were clearly visible, pointing through the tight fabric. And her pussy… she reached down; her pussy was concealed. Just. If she stood up straight. She giggled. She’d have to be careful when sitting, tonight, or climbing stairs or… mmmh… bending.

So what’s the story? She asked herself again. I’m travelling through town, here on my own… No: then she’d need a hotel room to go back to. Mmm… maybe next time. Simple was best: she’d come out with friends, but they’d all either scored or gone home, and she didn’t feel like leaving yet.

She hesitated: Am I really going to do this? The reflection in the mirror looked back at her. She was sexier than she’d ever been: bronzed skin, beautiful curves, smouldering eyes. And tonight she was more willing than she had ever been before to use it.

Dan had fucked his girlfriend, Charlotte, all day long. By the time she’d passed out, sometime around ten, she was worn out. She’d been extremely willing, but unlike him, her physical limits had not been raised.

He sat in the lounge, stroking his cock, his phone in his other hand, his thumb poised over the call button.

He loved Charlotte, and he didn’t want to cheat on her. Weird, in a way, since he’d been doing that for the last two days, but that didn’t really seem like reality: it seemed like a couple of days out from reality. To consciously go out and do it now would be something different. But he knew… he knew that at the other end of this phone line would be people having a very similar experience to himself. It wasn’t so much an emotional betrayal, on his part, more, an itch that needed to be scratched.

But of course, Charlotte would feel differently. For her, love and sex were very much the same thing. If she knew what had been going on she would be appalled; their relationship would be over in a flash.

How would he feel if it were the opposite way round? If he didn’t know about the condition, and he’d fucked her all day long and she was still so horny that she was thinking about leaving the house to find cock, he’d be devastated. And humiliated. And seriously worried about her.

He put the phone back in his pocket. Of course, now it would be different. Knowing how he felt inside himself, about her, and knowing that that wasn’t changed by all the sexual activity, he would know that the same would be true for her. If she loved him, she loved him. And, he had to admit to himself, the variety was just… fun. He imagined her on the same journey he’d been on. He imagined her enjoying the difference between all those cocks. In his mind’s eye he saw her putting her mouth around them, exploring them; riding them. Inevitably he saw her riding Dave, collapsing in an all-consuming string of orgasms, the way all the other girls had. The idea… turned him on. The idea of sliding his own cock into her ass and feeling her clamp and roll as she convulsed on the cock beneath her.

This condition, treatment, whatever they were calling it, was all right if you had someone to share it with, and, frankly, to fuck; but it was a pain in the ass if you didn’t. He fired up his Playstation for a couple of rounds of something, to clear his head, and considered how it would be to bring Charlotte into the group. He imagined they’d like her, with her cute, tight little body and her long, sandy dreads. And once she opened up the beast inside her, she’d love all the fucking. And he would love to go with her on this journey of sexual adventure.

He wondered whether she would knowingly agree to it, and suspected that she might not. So the alternative… the alternative would be to do the equivalent of spiking her drink. A part of him was appalled that the other part of him was not rejecting it as an option.

The music was loud enough that Becky, Lucy and Amy had to huddle close together to hear; the problem, of course, was that they hadn’t found anyone they all wanted to fuck.

Most of the bars were fairly empty; anyone who was with their partner was ruled out; and a lot of the guys remaining were really old, like in their 30s.

“Dave’s in his 30s!” Amy had protested, “And he’s hot.”

“Yeah,” said Becky, “But Dave’s got a cock like a… like a…” and then they all collapsed into giggles trying to think of things that were the same size as Dave’s cock.

“Rolling pin!”

“Big cucumber!”

“French stick!”

“Can of deodorant!”

“Beer bottle!”

They agreed that a beer bottle was not a bad shout, although Lucy was at pains to point out that it didn’t go slim at the end.

“No,” agreed Amy, “The fat part. All the way down. And it’s probably longer.”

They all laughed again.

“Seriously,” said Becky. “All this talk is having an effect on me. I think we need to do something about it.”

“Well stop being so fussy!”

Becky had been ruling out anyone who looked too normal. The rock chick in her couldn’t settle for any of those identikit blokes with shaven hair and check shirts. That was, in part, why they had wound up in this bar in a back street of the city’s cultural quarter.

“OK: What about one of them?” she asked, nodding at a group of lads at the bar.

“I kind of know them,” said Lucy. “A few of them were in my block in the first year.”

“Oh, I know them too,” agreed Amy, then made a face. “They’re kind of… kind of pricks.”

“Shame,” said Becky.

“That one’s alright though,” Amy told her, “The one on the end. He’s kind of shy and a bit awkward. Sweet though. I got chatting to him at a party a few months ago. Then his mates showed up, started hitting on me, and teasing him. About,” she said, leaning in with a twinkle in her eye, “Being a virgin.”

“Oho!” said Becky, sizing him up. “I think we have a winner. What’s his name?”

“I think it was Josh.”

“Well Josh, you’re about to have the best night of your life.”

Carolina jumped into the taxi. “Town please,” she told the driver. “Albert Dock.”

As he pulled off she slumped back in her seat.

“Out on the town?” he asked.

“Yeah, just going to meet some friends.”

“That’s a nice accent, where are you from?”

“Peru.” She always said Peru; if she said Colombia, the result was always some long conversation about drugs and gangsters, but taxi drivers didn’t seem to know much about Peru.

This one, however, had heard of Macchu Pichu, and as he started some anecdote about a mate who had gone on the Inca trail, she wondered if he could see her pussy in the rear-view window. Probably not, she thought. It he turned round and looked through the glass panels he’d get an eyeful, though. The idea of being exposed yet unnoticed aroused her; and the risk added a further spice. She started to finger herself.

He continued talking, oblivious. Surely he can smell me, though, she thought.

She strummed her clit with increasing intensity. A couple of times during the ride she had a little orgasm, and she was sure, the second time, that he heard her. The conversation seemed to wane a little after that point.

As they reached the waterfront, she could almost feel him itching to turn round and look. When they pulled up, as he told her the fare, he looked into the back of the cab: his eyes widened, and he stopped mid sentence.

Wordlessly, she placed a banknote in the tray, then sat back, her legs splayed, two fingers up her cunt.

“For your tip,” she said, “Pick me up from the same place tomorrow, at three o’clock in the afternoon.”

She pulled out her fingers and licked them clean, then, straightened her dress, opened the cab door, and got out.

Josh had spotted the pretty little blonde as soon as she and her friends arrived. He recognised her, too, but assumed she wouldn’t remember him. He’d seen her around a few times—the dark-haired one of her friends, Lucy, he thought, was friends with people who were friends with his friends, so they had wound up at the same parties or bars a few times—and he always noticed her, because she was strikingly beautiful. But he’d only ever spoken to Amy the once, at a party in the spring; they’d got talking in the kitchen, and she’d seemed really friendly, until his mates turned up. He was sure he’d seen a flicker of annoyance cross her face; in any case, once they started leering at her, she excused herself and moved off into the party.

He didn’t know why he hung about with these guys. They were the random friends the University had allocated him, when they all moved into student flats at the start of the first year. By now he had other friends with whom he had more in common, but he liked to see the best in people. Still, every time they hit on a girl he was trying to have a conversation with, or worse yet, harassed women in the street, he grew a little less inclined to go out the next time they asked. He’d signed a contract for a houseshare with them for the next year, but he was already regretting it.

He was glad he had come out this time though; although he was never going to “make a move” on Amy, and indeed, he’d be surprised if she remembered him, it was pleasing to see her. He didn’t even know how to make a move.

She saw him looking at her; he looked away. She must have said something to her friends, because when he looked up, all three were looking at him. Shit! Busted ogling, and he was so much more discreet than those other guys usually were. He looked away, and cursing himself, tried to pick up the thread of the conversation his mates were having—some drivel about a girl one of them had pulled—until he was distracted from it by their glances over his shoulder. He looked round.

Amy was standing at the bar right next to him. He couldn’t help but notice, as she leant forwards, trying to catch the barman’s attention, that the pose made her breasts really pop on her chest, and her cute butt stick out.

“Six vodkas, please,” she said. “Doubles. No ice. Oh hi, Josh!”

He hoped she hadn’t clocked him glance at her tits. “Hi!”

“You probably don’t remember me?” she said. “Amy, we met at a party the other month.”

“Of course I do. How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Good.” He floundered, trying to think of a way to prolong the conversation. “So, you didn’t go home for the summer?”

“No,” she said. “Me and my housemates wanted to get started on our research project for next year.”

“Oh, cool. What’s it about?” He couldn’t believe himself. Trying to pull a girl by asking her to talk about her degree.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. “It’s about… a new treatment the department is researching. It’s like those general healthy-person pills, except that it actually does something.”

There was something about her today; she had been hot before, in a really demure, pretty, understated way, but today she seemed… magnetic. Maybe it was the dress—she was wearing a tight little minidress that seemed to pull his eyes to her perfect figure. He swallowed.

The barman had brought her six glasses. She paid, then turned back to Josh. “Could you help me carry these over?”

“Sure,” he said, standing.

One of his mates said, “Would you look at the ass on that!” It was clearly audible enough for Amy to hear, but she didn’t respond, instead, picking up three of the glasses and setting off back to her friends. Josh picked up the other three, and followed her, hearing the same guy say, loudly, “You’re in there mate.”

When he got to their booth, Amy gestured him to sit on the sofa next to the brunette, and then jumped in next to him, squeezing him up against her friend. “So,” said Amy, “This is Josh. You probably know Lucy?”

He nodded; he’d seen her at the same party, and a few others before.

“And I’m Becky,” said the gorgeous redhead opposite.

“Hi.”

The three girls downed their first vodkas. Lucy looked at him, and giggled. “So where are you living, Josh?”

“Off Smithdown Road, with these…” he looked back at the guys, trying to avoid saying wankers; “…guys.” They were all watching, and one of them picked up a glass from the table and started heading over.

“We’ve just moved into a new house around there,” Lucy told him. Well, it made sense; that was the neighbourhood where most of the students in Liverpool lived.

“Here you are mate,” said his friend, putting Josh’s beer down on the table. “So who are you three lovely ladies?”

“I’m ‘not interested’,” Becky told him, “She’s ‘not bothered’, and she’s ‘fuck off’.”

Both of the guys were taken aback. Josh moved to leave, but Lucy put a hand on his arm. “Not you,” she said, “We like you.”

The other guy lingered, uncertainly. To make a point Lucy leaned in and kissed Josh on the mouth.

He got as far as “What—” before Amy kissed him from the other side. Then, Becky stood up, leant across the table, putting one hand on each of his knees, and kissed him full on the lips.

“…The fuck?” asked his friend. “Which—”

“All of us,” said Becky.

“What?”

“All of us,” Lucy confirmed. Amy just smiled.

This is a prank, thought Josh. It’s got to be a prank. But please God don’t let me fuck it up, if it’s not!

“So you run along home,” Becky continued, “And try not to spend too long thinking about what your mate here is going to be up to tonight. You’ll go blind. Shall we?” she asked the other girls.

“Let’s,” agreed Lucy. They downed the second set of doubles, and then stood, bringing Josh to his feet.

“Let’s get a taxi,” Amy suggested.

By the time Josh got out into the street, Becky had flagged down a black cab, and had climbed in the back, giving the driver the address. Lucy guided Josh in, then climbed in next to him, while Amy took the fold-down seat facing him.

As the car started to move, Becky grabbed his face, and kissed it; then Lucy took over, from the other side. There were hands all over his chest; before he knew what was happening, some of those hands had opened his jeans, and his cock was in a warm, wet place. He looked down to see little blonde Amy sucking him.

He looked up, meeting the driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror; he was about to apologise, when the guy gave him the thumbs-up. He shrugged, sat back, and enjoyed the ride.

When they arrived it was too soon. They piled out of the cab, Josh hastily pulling up his pants; Becky offered the driver his fare, but he waived it. “No no, on the house. You kids go along and enjoy yourselves.” She pulled down her dress to show him her boobs, and then ran after the others into the house.

No sooner were they inside the door than they were pulling at his clothes again. His jacket came off, and his t-shirt, his jeans were pulled down, someone pushed him onto a sofa and his shoes and socks were removed, and his trousers tugged off over his feet. And then one mouth back on his cock, a second on his body, and a third, Lucy, initially, kissing his lips.

He started to come, uttered a warning, and then, as Becky pushed Amy’s head down into his crotch, exploded into her mouth.

She swallowed all of it, and carried on sucking. Lucy moved down to lick his balls, and Becky joined her from the other side, and then all three of them looked him in the eyes. The effect was electric, and his cock became hard again. Becky disappeared, then returned with a condom packet which she ripped open; pulled out the rubber, and, pulling Amy up, rolled it on. She knelt on the sofa, astride him, her entrance resting just above his tip.

He groaned, “I’ve never—”

She put a finger on his lips, guided his cock into her pussy with the other, and said, “You have now,” and then collapsed, dropping her full body weight onto him, impaling herself on his cock all the way to the base.

Lucy peeled off her dress, and climbed up onto the sofa, her naked pussy directly in front of his face.

Amy was at his side; she whispered in his ear: “ And you know the best thing? The best thing is that we all love you.” Lucy dropped into his face, her wet pussy grinding his mouth, her crotch filling his vision, and Josh disintegrated into a haze of mouths and vaginas and lips and tongues and his erect cock.

Carolina didn’t even make it to the bar before she got catcalled. Normally she would have just walked on, ignoring it. This time, though, emboldened by the alcohol and the arousal flowing through her system, she spun on her heels—killer, six-inch strappy sandal heels, in fact—posed, back arched, breasts jutting out in front of her, and stared in the direction the sound had come from.

It must have been group of lads on the other side of the street. One near the middle looked cocky. She fixed him with her eyes, and approached, stepping out into the street.

“What?” she demanded, “You want me?” Daunted, he looked around at his mates for support; their faces all showed a mixture of shock and amusement, and, on one guy, embarrassment.

“Oh,” she continued, noticing the cocky guy’s sudden uncertainty. “You don’t want me. Too bad.” By now she was right up to him. She trailed a fingertip provocatively on his chest. “Maybe you could have had me. But no.” She gave him a little push and turned away, dismissively. “I don’t think you would have been enough. I don’t think you have what it takes to satisfy a woman.”

Some of his mates laughed at this. One didn’t; the one who had looked embarrassed now had an intrigued expression on his face. Her eyes locked with his.

“Whereas you…” she said, a note of interest in her voice, “You… maybe you have… something to offer.”

She leaned in, whispered, “Find me in the bar, later,” gave him a kiss on each cheek, turned, and strode back across the road, allowing her ass to roll deliciously as she stepped. Excited by her own boldness, she strutted into the bar, flashing a smile at the bouncers on her way in.

There was a reasonable number of people inside, but not too many, and she found her way straight to the bar. She leaned in on it, conscious that this allowed her dress to ride up a little, hopefully exposing just the bottom of her ass cheeks. A barman noticed her; she pointed her cleavage at him and ordered a glass of red.

Carolina felt a hand on her ass. Only partially intentionally, she pushed her butt back against it, but didn’t look round.

Whoever was groping her took this as a sign to continue. He—she assumed it was a he—grabbed her ass and squeezed, and then, when she didn’t complain, slid his hand down, under her dress, and found her wet pussy with his fingers.

“No underwear,” said a male voice, in her ear. “I like it.”

She turned at that, and told him—a reasonable-looking guy in his mid 20s—“I’m glad,” and kissed him.

If he was taken aback, he didn’t show it, and instead, returned the kiss.

When they broke for air, she turned back to the bar, paid for her drink and took a sip.

“My name is Carolina.”

“Mine’s—”

She put her finger on his lips. “Shhh. I don’t want to know your name. I have a fantasy,” she continued, trailing her fingertips onto his chest, “Of fucking a guy whose name I don’t even know. Maybe you can help me with it.”

This was a fantasy she’d had many times, often when masturbating. But she had never dared to live it out, until now, emboldened by intoxication and the driving need to fuck.

He raised an eyebrow, then kissed her again. “Well?” he asked. “Shall we?”

She nodded, and he took her by the hand and led her back out of the bar. Outside, he kissed her again, and then looked around for a taxi.

She said, “No. Now. Right away. We find a back alley.” She took his hand and led him up the road, and around the corner into an unlit back street. He threw her against the wall and kissed her passionately, aggressively.

Frantic, now, she fumbled at his belt, opened it, dropped to her knees and swallowed his cock whole. It rapidly became hard as she licked and sucked and bobbed on it. She reached into her bag for a condom, ripped open the packet, and rolled it on.

She stood. He wrapped his arms round her and lifted her by her ass; backed her onto the wall and lowered her, gently, as she guided him into her. When the tip was inside, he dropped her weight onto his cock, and she sank down, impaling herself on it, letting out a groan as she bottomed out.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, she ground against him; he started to pump, and then to pound her into the wall. Her fingernails raked his back. She urged him, “Harder! Fuck me harder.”

She rose to meet every thrust. “Fuck me! Come on!” She stared into his eyes, challenging him to give her everything. “Come for me! Come for me!”

With one final thrust, he pinned her against the bricks, and came, exploding inside the condom. She came too, writhing on him and biting his neck to muffle her scream. They hung there for a glorious second, then he slid out of her, lowering her feet to the floor. She dropped to her knees, rolled off the condom, and sucked his cock, cleaning it, extracting every last drop. She kept licking and stroking, gently, until he had gone soft again. She fed it back into his pants, and told him, “If ever you see me out again, do that again. Don’t even ask. Just take me.”

She zipped him up, stood, and kissed him on the lips, then straightened her dress, and walked back towards the bar.

As she passed the bouncers, one of them said, “Excuse me. I need to search your bag.”

He led her into the bar, and into a sideroom. Closing the door, he said “Right. I’ve seen you tease those guys on the way in, then leave with another guy, then come back. What’s your game?”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m just looking for fun.”

“Fun, is it? For money?”

She acted coyly shocked. “No! Strictly for fun.” She lowered her hand to his crotch. “You want some fun?”

He laughed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She dropped to her knees—again—and fished out his member. Despite his large, heavily muscled body, his penis was quite small. Probably all the steroids, she thought.

His small size meant she was able to take all of it into her mouth, though. She did something she’d only ever seen in porn: forced her mouth down onto him until her lips were around the base of his shaft, then licked his balls.

The head of his cock was just inside her throat. She worked the muscles, causing him to spasm, then pulled her head away for a moment, and rammed it back down. This wasn’t too bad; she could take it harder.

She pulled him out and told him, “Fuck my face. Come on. Use it.”

He did. Knotting his hands in her hair he fucked her mouth, hard and fast, all the way in each time; admittedly, not that far, though.

She coughed, and gagged, and when he pulled out for a second, told him, “More! Give me more.”

He gave her everything, banging away at her face until his sperm burst out of him, jetting directly into her throat. He held her buried in his crotch throughout his orgasm, just pumping come into her, until, his erection fading, he withdrew. She sucked his penis all the way out, and looked up at him, eyeliner streaked down her face and lipstick smeared, and asked, sweetly, “So can I go back into the bar?”

He laughed, and answered, “You might want to fix your makeup first.”

Mark had found it hard to stay focused at work. It was only Tuesday night, but there were a few people out: tourists, the odd group on a few drinks after work. The bar kept ticking over, but there were plenty of opportunities for chatting, and, it turned out, flirting.

Mark was always a bit of a flirt, but tonight all the ladies were responding: customers, of course, but also, more interestingly to him, the other bar staff. They were part of the reason he’d wanted this job: the venue had a habit of employing absolutely gorgeous bar staff. All summer they seemed to be having a competition to see who could look the hottest: Christina, the Greek girl with the incredible bubble butt; generous sideboob frequently on display from the Irish blonde, Megan; the tattoed hipster, Emma… among many others, but these were the three that were on tonight with him. And all of them seemed, well, interested.

But they were busy enough to keep themselves occupied on the bar most of the night. As they moved past each other, fetching drinks or glasses, Mark was sure they bumped more than usual, and each time, the contact seemed to last longer than would have been necessary.

It was torture. He’d been aroused all day, and it only got worse when Megan and Christina, the early shift, got off. As the bar thinned out, there were fewer and fewer people to come between Emma and Mark.

He couldn’t really tell at first: she was always a bit flirty with him, anyway. She was flirty with everyone; hardly a guy bought a drink from her who didn’t come away thinking he had a chance. She wasn’t really conscious of it. She was just extremely pretty, and very friendly, and these two attributes combined with an awareness that when she was friendly, people responded more positively towards her, encouraged her to behave in a way that had the effect of flirting, and looked like it from the outside.

Mark was well aware that a lot of people thought they had a chance, and this made him wary of falling into the same trap. He stuck to his work where possible, politely minimised any physical contact they had, and kept his demeanour as neutral as he could.

She was very hot. She wore the rock chick/hipster look very well, with a tribal design sleeve tattoo down one arm, and all sorts of enticing-looking things on her back, when she wore slit-back t-shirts, or loose vests with wide armholes. Mark had the feeling that she was from a wealthy family, and was only working the bar for pocket money.

Somewhere towards the end of the evening, during a slow period, Emma started talking about her love life. She told him about some guy she was seeing seemed to have flaked out. She’d been using a dating app on her phone, she said, and it was weird: it seemed like all the guys who used it were just looking for sex.

He laughed. “You know, that is what most people use that for. It’s a hook-up app.”

“No, really? No… there are loads of people looking for a relationship on there.”

“They say they are. How many guys you meet seem to be looking for sex on the first date?”

“No… well, most of them,” she admitted. “But I thought that was because, well, when they met me they thought I was hot.”

“Well, you are hot.”

“Thankyou. And you are too.” She smiled at him, and blushed, and continued, “But really? There are that many people just looking for sex? Girls too? Why?”

“Some people seem to enjoy it.” It took all his willpower to keep from adding, You should try it.

She seemed to hear that unuttered sentence though, and blushed a little more. Before she could answer, though, a couple of guys came to the bar and they both had to work. They were kept busy until Emma called time which triggered another rush to the bar. Eventually, the last customers left. Emma leant on the bar, and asked him, “So what about you? Are you still seeing that girl?”

“No. Well, it wasn’t serious, so when she went home for the summer we called it off.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Hey,” she said, seeming to change the subject. “Do you fancy going for another drink once we’re done here?”

Boom. There it was. He allowed himself a grin. “I don’t see why not. Actually, why don’t we go back to mine, I’ve got some booze and some nice weed.”

“Sounds good…”

Carolina didn’t have to wait long before the guy she had flirted with outside found her. Not many words were said before they ended up in a cab back to his place. As soon as they were inside the flat they were tearing at each other’s clothes; she threw him onto the bed, applied a condom, and mounted him—his cock sliding easily into her slick pussy—and then rode him furiously, hungrily, milking an orgasm out of him within minutes. Far from finished, she jumped off, rolled off the condom and worked him, bringing his cock back to hardness, until she could ride him again.

Dave, Jenny, Vicky and Rob lay in a tangle on the bed. Jenny’s hand worked, lazily, on Dave’s cock.

“Oh wow,” sighed Vicky. “This has been a great day.”

“Oh yes,” Jenny agreed emphatically. “Although I have to admit, I kind of miss… everyone else.”

“You slut,” her housemate laughed. “What you mean is, two guys aren’t enough for you.”

“No,” Jenny protested. “It’s just… now I have this… amazing body, I kind of… want to share it. And this thing,” she said, waving Dave’s enormous cock. “It just seems mean to keep it to ourselves.”

“That’s true. Fucking that thing is one of the world’s great experiences. Every girl should have a go.” She remembered her boyfriend, and added, “But yours is better, honey,” giving him a peck on the cheek.

Rob smiled. His cock, which had always been a nice, fat seven, seemed to have grown another inch, and while it was not on the scale of Dave’s… monster… he was more than happy with it. “I know you love me honey. That’s what matters. Plus I’ve been fucking your friend all day, and that’s been fun.”

“It certainly has,” agreed Jenny. “Vicky, your boyfriend has a lovely cock. And he knows what he’s doing. He played me like an instrument.”

Everybody laughed. Dave, surfacing from a wave of bliss, said, “And I’m very pleased to have met you, Vicky.”

“Likewise, Professor.”

He laughed, again, and said, “Yeah, this has been a lovely day.” He moaned, his cock clenched in Jenny’s hand, and he pumped out another few gobs of come. As they started to trickle down the head, Jenny pounced, sucking them up, licking the tip of his cock. She swallowed, and then took him into her mouth, siphoning out whatever remained.

“Thanks.” He shuddered.

“Well,” said Vicky, looking at Rob, “How about it?”

“How about what?” asked Jenny.

“Tell her,” said Vicky.

“OK,” Rob agreed. “Have either of you two,” he asked, addressing Dave and Jenny, “Ever had any experience with swinging?”

Dave shook his head, and Jenny, perking up noticeably, said, “No… tell me more.”

“Well. There are basically two ways of doing it: websites, where you put up ads; and clubs. The whole website thing is a bit of a faff, it takes some time to set up, you have to have photos and a profile, people drop out, there are a lot of bullshitters. It can work, and I can guarantee that if either of you two ladies put up an ad, you’d have more replies than you’d know what to do with. And there are always ladies looking for big cocks.” He paused, and then continued: “Clubs are pretty straightforwards though. There’s a decent club not far away, you just… go along, and when you’re there, do what you want to do, and don’t do what you don’t.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” said Dave.

“I, uh, with a former partner we did it a bit. Well, a lot.”

Vicky added, “He’s always wanted me to try it. I’ve been, well, intrigued, but I’ve never done it myself. But, given the current state of affairs… it seems like an interesting idea.”

“The club near here has what they call a… greedy girls night, on a Wednesday,” Rob told Dave and Jenny. “It’s basically a drop-in gangbang. Most nights they restrict the number of single guys… but not on a Wednesday. There are always a few women, so there’d be plenty of fun for us,” he said to Dave, “But I imagine Jenny would have a whale of a time. I mean you two would definitely be the hottest women there. And I have always wanted to see Vicky in a gangbang.”

“You almost have, the last few days,” said Jenny.

“Yeah. It’s been great.”

“Weren’t you jealous?” Dave asked him. “When you did swinging before? I mean the last few days have been kind of… exceptional, but before?”

“I can remember eating my girlfriend’s pussy, and looking up her body as two guys grabbed her breasts from either side, and thinking, ‘Am I OK with this? Yes… I think I am.’ The thing is that I knew, after it, she’d be coming home with me. And she did. And we had a week of incredible sex afterwards. Sorry,” he said to Vicky.

“It’s OK. I’m over it.”

“And it’s totally hot to watch someone you, er, care about, getting double penetrated.”

“So what do you think?” Vicky giggled, excitedly. “We were talking about it earlier. It’s Wednesday tomorrow.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Dave.

“Sounds fucking awesome,” said Jenny.

“Well,” said Rob, “Sounds like a plan, then.”

“Professor Gray, I think you need to be completely open about what has been going on over the last few days. I have been hearing stories.”

Sarah noted the tone of instruction in his voice. She was on good enough terms, ostensibly at least, with the head of the faculty that when he used her formal name, it meant something.

Of course secretly, she hated him. He had been ejected from his own department after allegations of bullying and hints of sexual harassment, and in the curious way that universities worked, had been kicked upstairs, and from there had ground his way upwards. Giving Professor Owen Williams authority had been like putting a paedophile in charge of a sweet shop, someone had joked to her at the time. Lots of people had come off worse, as a result, but she had held her ground against him because she knew how to play the game. She was well aware that he regarded her as an opponent; indeed, she was pretty sure that merely the fact that she was intelligent, strong and a woman was more than he could handle. That she was attractive, too, probably just hit his buttons even more. The guy had small man syndrome stamped all over him.

When she had first learned of the potential side-effects of the treatment, it had been him she was most worried about. The man seemed to have very few scruples, a massive desire for control, and a real vindictive streak. Certainly, being completely open with him was off the agenda; but she would need to be careful about what she did not disclose, not least because if he realised she was withholding, he’d stop at nothing to make her pay for it. The fact that he’d come back to her meant he’d heard something that contradicted the story she’d told him.

“Well,” she replied, “How much do you already know about the research project David Armstrong was running last year?”

“I know a certain amount, but start from the bottom.” He wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

“OK. With a group of students, Dave was trying to develop a treatment that would enhance the body’s regeneration and repair system. It worked using an initial injection which needed to be activated with an electronic device. Early trials with mice were extremely promising, far more so than expected, and the mice recovered from more or less any condition we infected them with, but it showed side effects: it affected their behaviour quite profoundly, and it seemed to be able to be able to pass from one mouse to another through close contact. This, coupled with the fact that he didn’t know how any of this was working, caused me to cancel the project. It seemed that the potential dangers were unacceptable.”

“A sensible decision. So?”

“So, one of the students working on the project was diagnosed with an advanced stage cancer, and was given a prognosis of several months. Obviously seriously affected by this news, she was able to administer the treatment to herself, on Saturday evening. Dr. Armstrong became aware that this was happening, and got involved, to try to ensure that she didn’t come to any harm. He also informed me. The situation escalated on Sunday when we discovered that the condition brought about by the treatment was far more easily transmitted in humans than we had any expectation that it might be. By this time, Dave, myself, my husband, the student’s flatmate and several of their friends had also been exposed.”

“How did you find out?”

“Well, we all started feeling symptoms.”

“Such as?”

“A degree of intoxication; heightened energy levels; heightened—” Her hesitation was minute, and she hoped he didn’t notice; “…tension. These were all symptoms in the mice before activation. As with the mice, our symptoms grew steadily, to a point where we felt it necessary to activate the treatment in the rest of us too.”

She paused, and took a deep breath. “When we gave Jenny her second dose of the emitter, she became heavily intoxicated and ran out of the lab and into the street.”

“I have heard rumours that she was naked.”

“Yes.”

“Well, why? Were you doing the treatment in the nude?”

“No. She took her clothes off afterwards. She also… ran into a cleaner and several students on the way out, and transmitted the condition to them too. We caught up with her just as she was about to enter a coffee shop over the road from the labs.”

“Naked.”

“Yes. Dave persuaded her to come back inside and put some clothes on. We then contacted security, locked down the building, isolated anyone who had been contaminated, and kept everyone inside until we were not contagious any more.”

“I’ve also heard about a radiation leak and a meningitis outbreak.”

“Yes. We told security to treat it as if it was a radiation leak, and then when we’d thought about it a bit more, we told the students who were present to tell their friends and family that they were being quarantined because they might have been exposed to meningitis. We thought,” she added, knowing he would respond to this, “That it would be better if we kept what is really going on under cover. We don’t want to attract any negative publicity. Or any publicity at all, frankly.”

“Well, I commend you for that, at least.” Owen sighed. “This is a mess. So what’s the situation now? How many people are affected? Are they still showing side-effects?”

“Nineteen, all told. And yes, mild side-effects, but nothing that would be noticeable, and nobody is contagious.”

“You’re sure of this?”

“We tested it. We found that we can test for whether people are infectious. And, when we were sure that everyone wasn’t, we invited someone to come to the lab to check whether they picked up the condition.”

“That seems… risky.”

“Well, we found someone who had a serious medical condition which could potentially be helped by the treatment, so that if worst came to worst, he might benefit from the treatment should he be contaminated. He wasn’t.”

“Does it work?”

“Possibly. We’re not sure, but Jenny’s cancer seems to be retreating. We haven’t taken her to the hospital for scans yet, but on the tests we have been able to run, her scores have been returning towards normal levels, and she certainly feels much better than before. The plan is that on Thursday, we’ll get some proper tests done to find out whether it’s helping.”

“So, the situation is that you have a potentially enormous advance for medical science, but it also has very serious side effects, and has the possibility of breaking out into the general population; you have already had near misses with this; and given the way this has happened, you can’t write it up as bona fide research because you can’t allow it to become public, because many of the judgements which have been made to bring you to this point have been highly questionable, and, indeed, must be regarded as mistakes.”

“That is where we are, yes.”

“And your initial response to this was to try to pass it off as an overreaction.”

“As I say, we wanted to keep this under wraps, to avoid publicity.”

“Well. You realise that, if you have managed to cure someone of cancer, that would be newsworthy. And if you have created a highly contagious disease, for want of a better expression, that would also be newsworthy.”

“Yes,” she agreed. Thankfully he didn’t appear to know about the effects on libido, or, indeed, the events at the student housing tower, both of which the media would certainly find interesting. “But we have it under control.”

“Well,” he repeated, “Make sure that you do. Because if heads roll over this, they will be yours and that of Dr. Armstrong. The Faculty will walk away and let the wolves take you. Don’t drop the ball. Good evening, Professor Gray.”

She was only mildly shocked; she knew, of course, that that would have been his policy, but that he would come out and say it so confrontationally was, well, disconcerting.

She said goodnight, and hung up.