The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brain Development Enterprises — Chapter 2

Dinner was surprisingly normal.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected. Maybe for my wife to come home and immediately realize that I had been screwing my stepdaughter all afternoon. Maybe for her to notice that something was different about me: that I had a silent, unspoken air of confidence or something.

But no, Barbara clicked into the house on her high heels — late, she’d been working late a lot recently — wearing her tight little pencil skirt and cream-colored blouse, looking like a million bucks but hardly giving her husband a glance.

In between our second and third fuck, McKenzie and I had teamed up to make the meal. Spaghetti and meatballs, the kind of food you can’t mess up even when one of you is exhausted and the other has just been fucked out of her slutty little mind. It was the first time I’d made dinner in a while, usually when Barb wasn’t home I just had cereal or made something in the microwave and was plopped down in front of my laptop watching TV by the time she got back to the house.

The gesture was lost on her.

As usual, dinner conversation consisted almost entirely of the girls talking while I sat there and chewed my food in silence. Today, though, for the first time in weeks, I didn’t mind. I didn’t sit there stewing, waiting for my wife to chat with her stepdaughter about her day and never ask me about mine. I didn’t glower at the back of Barb’s head when she wasn’t looking only to beam silently at her when she deigned to glance my way. I felt beyond that, only now realizing how small and petty my old concerns had been.

I am the Man, the Master of this house. The Man of the House doesn’t concern himself with the gossip of his women.

Honestly? I thought, cutting a meatball in half and forking a piece into my mouth, Barbara was right to treat me that way. I was a mediocre man. I didn’t act in a way deserving of respect, so why should she have given it to me?

It wasn’t until the meal was almost finished that my second wife glanced my way and said, “John, dear, can you come up after you do the dishes? I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

My stomach dropped, and the confidence that I’d been feeling the entire evening seemed to melt away as I reverted instinctively to old habits. What happened? I worried. Did she see something? Does she suspect something? What have I done wrong? I smiled wanly and nodded. “Of course, darling. I’ll be right up.”

Barbara nodded and wiped her mouth with her napkin as she pushed back from the table.

My eyes locked for a moment on her full, luscious lips, and then flickered back up to her cool blue eyes. I watched as she stood, dropped her napkin carelessly on the table, and then strode from the dining room. Her legs looked miles long in those heels and the casually sexual sway of her hips in that pencil skirt…

I realized I had been staring blatantly at her ass and glanced nervously at my stepdaughter. I was worried. What if she stops listening to me as soon as she realizes my confidence is a fraud? I wondered.

McKenzie was watching me, a playful glint in her hazel eyes and her teeth biting at her bottom lip. Her eyes were wide and innocent as she stood from her chair, tucking a stray hair behind one ear. She was wearing a skirt too, a wonderfully short one that bared plenty of thigh, and she played with the hem as she circled around the table.

We could hear her mother going up the stairs in the background — click, click, click in those heels — as she sat on the corner of the table with one leg dangling nonchalantly. She cupped my cheek with a small hand, gave me a look that was almost tender, then leaned in and kissed me full on the mouth.

My fears evaporated as I sank into the kiss. Yes, a deep, masculine voice sounded from the depths of my mind. Good. The worries I’d had with Barbara vanished, replaced by the realization that all I truly needed was a new set of mental frameworks to replace the ones I’d been using for years.

My stepdaughter’s mouth was still only inches from mine as she pulled back long enough to whisper, “Don’t worry about her, Daddy. I know you’ll remind her who’s the master of the house. Just like you reminded me…”

Then, I took control.

McKenzie gasped into my lips as I pushed back from the table and stood, my hands clasping her slim waist and pulling her closer. She slid off the table and onto her tiptoes and my fingers were up under that slutty little skirt, kneading her supple young ass and making her moan wantonly into my mouth.

I could feel myself getting hard as she ground up against me, her hands on my arms and shoulders and back and her perky teenaged tits pressed to my chest. But I pulled back. Something I have to do first. “Now,” I ordered, rolling my shoulders back and fixing her with a commanding stare. I could practically sense my stepdaughter getting wet as I pinned her in place with my dark brown eyes and my hands on her curvy young hips. “You’re going to clean up from dinner.”

McKenzie’s eyes fluttered down submissively. “Yes, Daddy…” she murmured, her voice soft.

“And then,” I continued, “when I’m done with your mother, I’m going to come back down here and… check your work.”

A little smile touched McKenzie’s lips, pulling them up at the corners. Her glance up into my face caught my confident smirk and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I told her. I leaned in swiftly for another peck on the lips before striding out of the room and up the stairs. I took them two at a time, self-assurance thrumming through me once again.

You are in control. You are an Alpha Male. You are the Man of the House.

Barbara was in the bathroom taking off her makeup when I came in. She didn’t spare a glance my way as I walked in and sat on the edge of the bed closest her, my fingers entwined and hanging between my thighs as I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees.

“So,” I said, taking a moment first to let my eyes wander down her curvy figure. “What did you want to talk about?”

My wife didn’t respond at first, wiping at her face with a moist towelette, but I didn’t feel the need to press. I could be patient. This was a waiting game. I hadn’t realized, before, how much of our relationship was made up of dominance games like this one. I suppose, I thought pensively, that that’s why I always used to lose.

“Do you know what ‘BDE’ stands for?” Barbara asked suddenly, turning to shoot me a look with those big blue eyes of hers. She was trying to surprise me, to put me on my heels, but instead I furrowed my eyebrows and treated her to a look of consternation.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“This afternoon at work I got a text from McKenzie.” My wife glanced in the mirror then tossed her used towelette to the counter and strode back into the bedroom. “She brought a package inside from the front step. It had your name on it and the label ‘BDE: Reprogram Yourself for Victory.’” She raised one sculpted eyebrow at me. “I assume you know what I’m talking about now?”

I nodded slowly, forcing myself to bear up under her icy stare. It was harder than I had anticipated. My habitual reaction was to simply fold up and try to give my wife whatever she wanted. “I do.”

“And do you also know what ‘BDE’ stands for?”

I spread my hands. “Brain Development Enterprises?” I answered. “It’s the name of the company.”

Barbara shook her head and made a noise of disgust. “Honestly, John. It stands for big dick energy. What on Earth would that kind of package have inside of it? As your wife, I find this whole thing strange and a little disturbing.”

I frowned. Somewhere behind my forehead a voice rumbled quietly.

Your word is Law. Your desire is Law. Your household exists for your pleasure. Your women exist for your pleasure.

I stood now, the frown deepening. “I got passed up for a big promotion at work recently, in case you didn’t even notice or remember,” I told her, my voice tainted with frustration. The words flowed easily from my lips. After all, my lie had a basis in truth. “I took a big hit to my confidence, so when I saw an ad for a series of self-hypnosis recordings to build up self-confidence and positive thinking I bought them. I thought that if I could be bolder at the office then maybe it wouldn’t happen again. Instead, my wife arrives home and calls me ‘strange and disturbing?’ Can’t you just support my desire to improve?”

Barbara seemed taken aback by my outburst, her eyebrows coming together in a thoughtful frown of her own. For a moment, it seemed like she would cave, apologize for being so abrasive or tell me that she did support me, after all.

Then, I watched as the moment passed her by.

Instead, she shook her head at me and sighed with exasperation. “Really, John? Don’t you know that hypnosis doesn’t work?” She turned and walked back into the bathroom, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of her blouse. “I’m going to take a shower,” she told me as she closed the door. “When I get out, we can go to sleep and pretend like this little tizzy never happened.” The door clicked shut and then I heard the sound of the lock.

Guess she wants some alone time, I grumbled silently. I sat down for a moment on the bed, elbows on my knees and fingers rubbing my eyes.

I was tired. Tired of dealing with this kind of treatment. I wondered, for the first time, whether my lack of confidence at work might be rooted in my home life. Wouldn’t be surprised, I mused. It was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I finally saw the treatment I’d been getting every day for months, if not years. But I shook my head and took a deep breath, forcing a grin onto my face as I stood. Even the act of smiling made me feel a little better. I snorted out a laugh and shook my head, dispelling the negative mood. You’ve got better things to do than worry about her, I told myself.

Barbara took the longest showers known to man, and I had a sexy little teen downstairs who was practically begging for her stepfather’s long, hard cock.

I rolled my eyes in the direction of the bathroom, squared my shoulders and headed out the door. “McKenzie,” I called. “I hope you’re ready down there!”

* * *

My 18-year-old stepdaughter was waiting for me when I came into the kitchen.

I froze in the doorway, my eyes widening. “Hello, angel,” I murmured softly after a moment, my fingers tugging at the hem of my tee-shirt and pulling it up over my head.

The table was cleared of dishes and wiped clean of crumbs. The sink was empty, and the dishwasher was running. McKenzie herself had hopped up onto the kitchen counter, lifted her skirt and was languidly playing with her cleanly shaven pussy. “Hello, Daddy…” she purred across the room. Two fingers slid slowly in and out of her tight entrance, her thumb circling her clit. “I’m ready for you.”

I could feel myself growing harder as I stalked toward her, my heartbeat thudding in my ears and blood rushing south. There was a taut energy between us that slowly tightened as I drew nearer. I watched McKenzie’s pupils dilate as I approached, her breath growing faster and faster as her hands began to speed up their work.

She licked her lips. “Do you like what you see, sir?” my stepdaughter asked.

I knew she was asking about herself and not about the cleanliness of the kitchen, but I paused for a moment and pretended to survey her work. I shrugged noncommittally, taking a step closer and allowing my dark gaze to pierce her lighter one. “Passable.”

She was panting now, and I hadn’t even touched her. “I guess you’ll have to punish me again,” she murmured. Her voice was half nervous, half hopeful.

I stepped before her and stopped. The balled-up tee shirt in my fist hit the floor. “I think I’ll let it slide this time.”

Her hands were on my shoulders as her feet hit the floor, and I was pushing her back against the counter with my palms on her hips. My growing erection throbbed against her stomach as I bent my head and kissed her, hard. Her now familiar scent filled my nose — coconut and vanilla — and did strange things to my stomach, twisting and knotting and unknotting, things that no daughter should ever do to her father. My fumbling fingers found the waistband of her skirt and tugged at it desperately. Luckily it was elastic, easy to tear from her lithe young body.

McKenzie shimmied clear of the skirt as it fell past her knees and onto the tile, kicking it away so it slid across the floor. She was dripping wet and I could feel the heat of her burning need like a furnace on my fingers. One of my hands rose to cup the back of her head and the other dropped between her long legs to cup her pussy, a finger gently sliding across her slick entrance and circling her clit.

My stepdaughter’s head dropped back, her breath fast and short. Her eyes were wide and hazy with arousal, barely able to focus. “Please, Daddy…” she begged. “I’m so ready for you…” Her own hands trailed down my shoulders and arms, then one went behind my neck while the other tugged desperately at the cloth of my sweatpants. I’d slung the loose gray sweats on before we’d come downstairs for dinner, realizing at some point that easy access was more important than style.

My thumb flicked across her pleasure button now as my index finger slid slowly inside of her. “Are you, baby girl?” I asked gently, my own breath harsh in my mouth. “Are you really ready for me?” I could taste my need, almost metallic, mingling with the taste of her kisses in a heady cocktail on my tongue. My finger eased back and then inside of her again.

She trembled under my touch, nodding. Her eyes had fallen half-closed.

I leaned in and kissed her neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex as I kissed up her throat to her jawline. I let my teeth tug at her earlobe and whispered, “Ready for anything I want?”

McKenzie was practically entranced, drunk on her own need. Whatever drugs had been in my cologne had done something to her. She could barely think straight around me, could barely form a coherent thought except to obey and to please. “Anything…” she moaned softly. “Please…” Her fingers slid beneath my waistband, but I shifted back and out of reach.

I wasn’t done yet. I realized, then, that I was filled with anger: anger at my wife who hadn’t yet learned to treat me with the respect I deserved, anger at the stepdaughter who, until today, had treated me like an ATM and her personal cleanup crew.

You are the provider. You are the protector. You are the Alpha. You are the Master.

“You’re mine,” I told her, my words like seeds planted in the fertile soil of her mind. “Say it…”

“I’m yours…” McKenzie gasped, her voice high and wanton.

“You’ll do anything I wish.”

“Anything you wish…”

“Because I own you.”

“You own me, sir.” Her fingers were on my chest, around my neck, in my hair.

“Your body belongs to me.” The words flowed from my lips like a righteous sermon, reminding her who she was and who she needed to be.

“My body belongs to you…”

“Your tits belong to me.” I pulled back and grabbed the tube top she was wearing, pulling it swiftly up over her head. Her round, bouncy breasts tumbled free. My tongue swirled around one of her dark, hard nipples.

“My tits belong to you…” she gasped, back arching so I could bury my face in her cleavage.

I pulled back and my hands circled around her hips. “Your ass belongs to me.” I massaged the twin hemispheres.

“My ass belongs to you…”

“Your sweet little slutty mouth belongs to me.”

She punctuated each word with a searing kiss. “My sweet… little… slutty mouth… belongs to you…”

I was breathless, but on a roll. “You can’t say no to me.”

“I can’t say no to you…”

“You don’t want to say no to me.”

“I don’t want to say no to you…”

“You’ll suck my cock anytime I want.” My cock throbbed as the words tumbled drunkenly from my mouth. I was drunk on my own power, on the need that pounded in my temples.

McKenzie leaned forward, whispering in my ear as her hand dove into my sweats. “I’ll suck your cock anytime you want, Daddy…”

“You’ll fuck me anytime I want.”

“I’ll fuck you anytime you want…” Her slim fingers wrapped around my shaft.

“You live to please me.”

“I live to please you…” She began to stroke me.

“You’re my hot little teenage slut.”

“I’m your hot little teenage slut…” Forward and back. Forward and back.

“You’re my sweet, cute girl next door…”

“I’m your sweet, cute girl next door….”

“You’re my sexy bimbo cheerleader…”

“I’m your sexy bimbo cheerleader…” McKenzie gasped in surprise as my hands gripped her hips and lifted her up, setting her back down on the counter.

“You’re mine, always and forever.” My sweats were loose around my hips and I shoved them down, my pulsing cock springing free, red and needy.

My stepdaughter stared into my eyes. “Always and forever…”

I thrust, sliding up inside of her with a grunt of primal pleasure.

McKenzie moaned and kissed me, her mouth hot and her kisses desperate.

I thrust again, bottoming out inside of her. My entire body felt as electrified as a live wire, like a bomb set to go off at any moment. For a split second I started to wonder, What if my wife— and then I thrust a third time and the tight, welcoming heat of my daughter’s body wiped the worry from my mind.

The sexy teen pulled back, her hands on my shoulders and then dropped once again to the tiled floor on bare feet.

I started to protest, but she just turned around and bent over, offering herself up once again for my pleasure. She glanced over her shoulder, hazel eyes big and begging…

“Take me, Daddy…” she whispered.

I did. I lined up and powered inside her cunt, her cry of pleasure muffled as she clamped a hand over her own mouth. My hands slid up her flat stomach and cupped her breasts, tweaking her nipples as I hammered into her pussy over and over.

I wouldn’t last long at this rate, the intensity and heat of the moment stronger even than what we’d done this afternoon. This was better than sex. This was power, and I could feel it pounding in my head with every thrust of my hips.

McKenzie clutched at the counter with one hand as her legs wobbled, her hair in disarray. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned into her fingers. Then she was over the edge, her head dropping forwards and her body spasming as she came all over my pumping length.

Her inner muscles gripped me and released over and over, begging me to cum and fill her fertile young body with my seed. I held out for a moment longer, my core tightening and extending the taut, electric feeling of being right… on… the… edge...

The wave crashed over me and I was gone, my breath escaping my lungs and my legs trembling. I buried myself to the hilt inside my teenage stepdaughter and came, my cock twitching and spurting strand after strand of sticky white cum into her womb. I collapsed on top of her, my heart hammering and my lungs begging for oxygen.

Her smooth back was sticky with sweat. I could feel her heartbeat pounding against my chest and I knew she could feel mine.

I felt weak and at the same time full of some unfathomable strength.

You are a Man. You are a Master. You are the Master. You are their Master.

“Holy fuck…” I muttered, the marble countertop feeling cold as ice beneath my palm as I pushed myself back. “That was incredible.” I slid from McKenzie’s body slowly and then took several shaky steps away, staring at her gorgeous young figure with disbelief.

Mine. The thought sounded in my head before I could stop it, and then I realized I didn’t have to stop it. I had seen her, I had wanted her and I had taken her. As it should be. I ran my fingers through my hair.

My stepdaughter turned, tossing her long brunette locks over her shoulders. She licked her lips as she looked me up and down, then sashayed the several steps it took to rest one finger lightly on my chest. “Thank you, Daddy,” she murmured playfully. Then, with a mischievous giggle, she turned, scooped up her discarded clothes, and scampered up the stairs.

Above us, I could still hear the shower running in the master bathroom.

* * *

I was undressed and in bed by the time Barbara emerged from the bathroom, hair dry and body wrapped in her clean white bathrobe. I had my earbuds in and BDE 2 queued up on the small white iPod, just waiting to hit Play.

Barbara sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath and glancing over at me. I could tell she was ready to just call it quits and head to sleep, but she pursed her lips and a thoughtful expression came over her face. She took another deep breath and I saw her nostrils flare in the light of her bedside lamp. “What’s that?” she asked. “That smell…”

I pulled out one of my earbuds, pretending I’d been listening to something, and raised my eyebrows. “Hmm?”

My wife shook her head slightly. “I… don’t know. Did you get a new cologne or something?”

“Oh, yes, I did!” I shrugged, pretending to play it off. When I’d gotten back to the room I had taken the bottle and spritzed her side of the bed with several generous sprays. “I tried it on earlier. I was going to ask what you thought, but then we had that little argument…” I trailed away, acting embarrassed.

“I… like it…” she said, sounding almost hesitant to give me any sort of praise. She coughed self-consciously and breathed it in again.

I could almost see the gears turning in her mind.

“Good choice.”

I smiled innocently at her, hiding the dark intentions that lurked beneath my calm exterior. “Thank you, darling.”

She gave me a slight smile back, seeming suddenly to forget the foul mood she’d been in. She tucked her blonde hair back behind one ear, a gesture that reminded me of her daughter. “Kiss and make up?” she asked.

That’s how I knew it had worked. Barbara never gave up on a grudge, at least not until someone else had accepted the blame. I glanced away, pretending to think. Then, I took a deep breath myself. The scent of the cologne filled me, brushing away any doubts like they were dusty old cobwebs. “Sure,” I said, nodding. “Let’s do that.”

“Good…” Barbara murmured, her voice tinged with an almost dreamy quality. She turned and climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees. Crawling across the mattress, she bent over me. Her full, globular tits swung pendulously above me, begging for my touch, but I held myself in check.

Not yet, I warned myself. We were in the beginning stages, yet. She and I had a lot further to go than me and McKenzie. So I simply let my hands lightly touch her shoulders as she lowered her full lips to mine.

It was the first long, slow kiss that my wife and I had shared in some time. Not a peck on the lips, a hey there or an off to work, but one that slowly turned from a soft, gentle caress to a long, deep, sensual kiss.

When Barbara finally pulled back her sky-blue eyes were wide with surprise. They darted from side to side, like she couldn’t believe where she was, and then they met my dark ones and settled there. “Ahem…” she coughed. “That was nice, dear…”

I settled back onto my pillows and let my eyelids slowly drift down like I was getting sleepy. “Yeah…” I murmured. “I feel a lot better now. You?”

“Yes…” she murmured. She shook her head slightly, as though to dislodge some pesky thoughts, and then settled back onto her side of the bed.

I smiled slightly to myself. I had her right where I wanted her. “I think I’m going to sleep now,” I murmured, rolling over and picking up my iPod.

Behind me, I heard Barbara take a breath in, almost as though she was going to say something, then was quiet. “Alright, dear,” she said instead. “I’ll turn off my light for you.”

I grinned into my pillow. Even this tiny gesture of thoughtfulness was a big step.

My wife flicked off her bedside lamp, and I felt the mattress move as she shifted several times to get under the comforter. She rolled over, and then again. Something was eating her up.

I ignored her, hoping that that was the right play. Sometimes, I considered, letting people stew is the best way to get what you want. I waited to start BDE 2, breathing quietly and listening to Barbara tossing and turning.

After maybe ten minutes, she shoved back the blankets and rolled to her feet. She paused, as though checking to see she hadn’t woken me, and then padded softly to the bathroom.

I cracked my eyes open as she walked past me, her curvy figure outlined in the moonlight coming in through the bathroom window. God damn… I could feel my cock twitch awake and was reminded of one of the reasons I’d chosen Barbara to be my wife. Even in the half-light her figure was right out of a dream, her round, full ass perfect for spanking in a barely-there thong and her globular tits visible even from behind.

Barbara paused in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder stealthily, like she was trying to make certain she wasn’t seen.

I dropped my eyelids closed and didn’t open them until I heard the bathroom close and lock with an audible click. I kept my breathing quiet and strained my ears. I wondered what she was up to, but I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Barbara’s feet padded lightly across the tiles and then I heard a soft moan.

Oh fuck yeah… I could picture her in my mind’s eye, leaning back against the bathroom counter, her fingers diving beneath her thong to slowly spread her folds and slide inside of her.

My wife’s voice was murmuring something. I came back from my daydream and sat up in bed, listening.

“Oh John…”

Blood rushed to my crotch, my manhood swelling as I heard my name.

“Please, John… Fuck me… Fuck me harder, John…” There was another moan and a soft gasp.

I was rock hard now, my hand rubbing my length through my boxers as I imagined what was happening on the other side of the door.

Barbara’s thumb was circling her clit, her other hand kneading one massive breast, tugging and twisting desperately at her nipple. She was soaking wet, her eyes closed as she imagined being bent over the sink and fucked just like I’d fucked her daughter half an hour ago. She was stroking her G-spot, wishing it was my cock instead of her fingers. Nothing could satisfy her like I could. Nothing could satisfy her like the Man of the House. Nobody could fuck her like her Master.

“Any way you want me, John…”

Her words were louder now as she lost control, her harsh, ragged breath audible to me as I sat there leaning back against the headboard.

“Anytime, anywhere… You make me so horny, baby, I can’t even think straight… All I want is that big hard cock inside of me…”

I resisted the urge to stroke myself, instead settling back down and enjoying the show. Why do I need to masturbate? I thought, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across my face. That’s what my women are for.

“Oh yes, John!” Barbara’s voice was growing higher and higher. She was getting close. “Fuck me like a whore… Fuck me like you own me… You own me, baby! Yes! Yes! Yesss!”

I heard her cumming, heard the rattling of the drawers in the bathroom cabinet as she trembled and leaned back against them, her body convulsing with pleasure.

Yes… That’s a good wife… I thought. Playing with yourself for me like the horny slut you are… I closed my eyes. I’d heard all I’d needed to. And now…

I pressed Play on the second BDE recording, settling back into my pillows.

“Hello again…” The soft, masculine and strangely relaxing voice of Mr. Silver Fox sounded in my ears. “I hope you’re ready to relax and evolve, because this time we’re going to take you even deeper… Let’s start by taking a nice, deep breath…”

I breathed in, my muscles relaxing, realizing as I did that my body was actually exhausted. A tiny smirk twitched across my mouth. I guess fucking my stepdaughter three times in a day is more exercise than I usually get.

“Very good…” His voice was a deep thrum, resonating in my ears and through my brain. “And another, allowing your mind to darken and your thoughts to drift like clouds… Not doing anything to them… Just letting them be as we relax your body down, down, down…”

I fell asleep listening to the man’s soothing voice, knowing that I was taking the next step in my alpha male evolution.

* * *

I didn’t hear Barbara come back to bed, but I did wake up sometime in the night. I didn’t open my eyes, but I felt something against me in the dark.

It was my wife.

Usually we slept on opposite sides of the bed with our backs to one another, but tonight she’d rolled over in her sleep and was pressed close against me. Her breath tickled my neck and I caught her scent, sweet and musky and sexy. Her sleeping hand was resting on my stomach, mere inches from where my cock lay dormant against my inner thigh.

I grinned as I drifted back off.

You are an Alpha Male. You make women horny just by your presence. Your body is a Temple where they come to worship. You are an Alpha Male. You are a Temple.

* * *

I woke slowly, and I woke horny. It had been months since I’d woken with a morning wood but today I was throbbing with pent up need, my cock pressing against the fabric of my boxer briefs and straining for release.

It was an unusual sensation, because not only was Barbara still pressed tightly against me but in the night her hand had drifted lower so that her fingers cupped the tent at my crotch.

The first rays of dawn were filtering through the trees outside and in through the window. As I sat up gently, trying not to wake my wife, I realized the second surprising development. I had woken without my alarm. I frowned thoughtfully, wondering when that had last happened.

It had been years, almost definitely, and when I slowly slid out from beneath the sleeping woman and grabbed my phone to check the time my eyes widened with disbelief.

It was only 6:30.

What the hell…? I thought. And it’s a Saturday, for crying out loud. I don’t even have an alarm today. But somehow I felt no tiredness, no desire to go back to bed. I was energized, rejuvenated, and…

Struck by a strange desire to work out. I grinned as I realized what must be happening. I exhaled and stood, rolling my shoulders and bouncing on the balls of my feet. Thank you, Mr. Silver Fox!

I padded into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me and enjoying the cool sensation of the tiled floor under my toes. I rested against the bathroom counter and stared into the mirror in the gentle morning light.

I was naked except for my boxers and I cast a critical eye over my body. Usually I tried to ignore the image in the mirror. It wasn’t a great one, my rounded jaw and pudgy belly hardly an image of masculine glory, but now I stood up straight and ran myself over without judgement. I clicked my tongue pensively. Unaccountably, instead of disappointment and lethargy the image I saw filled me with motivation. I imagined my waistline trimming down, my jaw sharply defined and my abs rippling with a washboard six pack.

Anything is possible for you. Your body is yours. Your body is a Temple. You deserve to be fit, sexy and powerful.

I splashed cold water in my face and scrubbed out whatever sleep was left in my eyes. “You’ve got this, John,” I commanded, staring myself straight in my dark brown orbs. No more hiding from the fact that I was fat and needed to change. It was time to do something about it.

I fumbled around in the bedroom closet for a couple minutes before I dug out a pair of running shoes I’d bought sometime between my first wife and my second. That had been a low point in my life, but for a couple of weeks I’d tried to better myself. It hadn’t stuck.

Now, I threw on a pair of basketball shorts, laced up the trainers and snuck downstairs. Usually my day would start with a steaming mug of coffee but today I headed straight for the front door. After, I promised myself.

Objectively, my run was a failure. I was out of breath by the time I hit the end of the block headed towards the park, but I pushed past it. My lungs were screaming at me to quit and my legs wobbled like I was running on stilts, but I kept going.

I hit the neighborhood park and circled it once before heading home, blowing air like I was some sort of whale. When I stumbled up the front steps and collapsed into the rocking chair on the porch, though, I was grinning through the sweat that beaded my face.

I felt good.

I was having a lot of firsts, these past few days, because for the first time in months I felt like I’d actually accomplished something. I sat on the porch for a moment, enjoying the cool morning air on my face and breathing heavily. Then, I pushed myself up and headed inside.

* * *

I was on my second mug of coffee by the time Barbara came downstairs.

I’d spent the time brainstorming, thinking of all the things in my life that needed to improve. Instead of being exhausted from my run I felt filled with even more energy and motivation than before.

It was a slow Saturday morning, but I knew that my wife usually made time for a workout before going about her day. All she wore was a sports bra to keep her massive tits contained and a pair of boy shorts over the thong she’d slept in.

Barbara stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at me for a long minute before she said anything. “Where were you this early?” she asked, taking in my sweat stained shirt and runner’s garb.

I let my eyes wander brazenly over her outfit before responding. I shrugged, standing and crossing to her. “Just out for a light jog,” I told her, enjoying the expression of surprise that spread across her face.

It was still there when I stepped close, slid my arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. My mouth covered hers and she melted against me, her hands making fists in the fabric that stretched across my chest. I held her there for a moment before pulling back and staring down into her eyes.

“I guess I finally realized that I’ve got all this to compete with,” I told her. And, with a wink, my hands slid down and squeezed her ass.

She jumped a little at my unexpected boldness, her blue eyes widening with surprise. She seemed speechless, but I just stepped back and grinned cheekily at her like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Coffee?” I asked breezily. “I have a fresh pot all made up in the kitchen.”

Barbara blinked, stunned, and then nodded mutely.

I led the way into the kitchen and took out a mug from the cupboard. As I set it gently on the counter, I felt my wife approach me from behind.

Her tits pressed against my back and I could feel her hardening nipples through the fabric of her bra as she gave me another hug. Her hands slid over my hips and down to gently stroke my cock.

I was already halfway to a full-on steel rod, and, unexpectedly, I felt no shame. Usually I tried to hide my arousal from her, inexplicably sheepish, but now I let a soft moan escape my lips as she rubbed me with slender fingers.

“What happened to you?” she murmured softly, half to me and half to herself. “It’s like you’re a whole new man.”

I sucked in a breath, her fingers working their magic and sending blood rushing south to inflate my length. My teeth gnawed at my lip as I controlled myself and reached out to nonchalantly pour her a cup of dark roast. I gently escaped her hands and turned, blowing on the steam that rose from her mug.

“Maybe it’s those self-hypnosis recordings,” I answered, a joking smile playing across my face.

She seemed a little disappointed when I held out her cup and she had to release me to take it.

“Or maybe,” I leaned in to peck her on the lips. “I just got tired of being less than the man I should be.” I let her ponder that one as I sat back against the counter, my palms pressed to the marble.

Barbara pushed her hair back from her face and took a sip, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Whatever it is,” she said, meeting my eyes. “Keep doing it. Okay?” She seemed almost worried, like I was a mirage that would disappear before her eyes.

“No worries there,” I answered. “The new me is here to stay.”

She nodded, eyes still unbelieving, and I gave her another wink before I headed back out the door. “I’m going to shower up real quick,” I tossed over my shoulder. “Rest of the coffee’s for you.” I bounded up the stairs two at a time, light on my feet and with a spring in my step.

Damn it felt good to be Alpha.

* * *