The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Breast Way To Get the Girls

Part 5

You know those times when, cross your heart, you want to speak the truth, but circumstances say that when your mouth opens, anything but the truth had better be what comes out of it? I wanted to say, “Damn, seducing you by taking control of your tits was easier than I could have imagined, but I never thought I could get a woman’s boobs to do that!”

As Dawn’s body trembled in my arms, I found myself petting and stroking her back like a frightened pet, and I thought about what words could frame this kind of supernatural shock into something she might actually like. She repeated in a little girl’s voice that she was a freak, which in a way gave me hope because she didn’t seem to think it had anything to do with me. Once she was a little bit calmer, I left her just long enough to make some hot chamomile tea, the same thing Laura had always wanted when she felt anxious about something. Dawn was sitting cross-legged on the bed when I returned, and when she spoke I could see how the initial shock had already gone through the filter of rational thought, turning instinctual fear into something closer to wonderment. She wanted to know how such a thing could happen, which meant she’d already partially accepted that it had happened. That was good, since there was no sense in denying the facts, not with the melted hole in her bodystocking and the whole event undoubtedly captured on film.

“There’s nothing wrong with my boobs,” she said, which to my ear was the understatement of the young century. “They aren’t red or singed, they aren’t sore in any way...”

“Aren’t there stories about a fire that burns without actually consuming things?” I asked, partially recalling the burning bush for Moses.

“It’s in all kinds of religions and myth systems,” she said, probably versed in such things through her art history studies. “But that’s the thing—it’s always the kind of thing a god or goddess can do, or it’s a symbol for a semi-divine being. Physical laws can’t just be ignored unless your Krishna or Jesus or somebody like that. But look at this hole—my tits melted right through this thing and I’m completely unmarked! It’s... It’s... What on earth is going on?”

I didn’t fully understand it myself, though of course I knew who the culprit was. “You said at first that you felt like a freak,” I said, unnecessarily deflecting the target from my chest back to hers. “We can both see that something extraordinary happened when we made love, but couldn’t you look at the evidence in reverse, that somehow you’re really special?”

I sent waves of warm energy into her breasts as I said that, because... well, because I’d been turned into a one-trick pony, and women’s breasts were the whole damn circus for me.

She didn’t say anything for a bit, her eyebrows expressing what she felt inside as the warm excitement in her tits met all the ideas racing through her mind. We were sitting across from each other on the bed now, and she looked sexy as hell with her boobs jutting out from the compromised bodystocking. I got this weird thought of a transformed insect partially bursting, breasts first, through a cocoon. It was a really sexy image when a woman like Dawn was the insect.

“How do you feel when we make love?” she asked out of nowhere. “I mean that in a physical sense. How does it feel?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, when the truth was that I felt my pleasure—I suppose it might be said my male pleasure—with a ton of her female pleasure heaped onto it, like her orgasms were the whipped cream on my cockolate sundae. “It’s the best I’ve ever felt with anybody,” I said. “Like, perfect?”

She smiled at that, her first smile since we’d awakened. “I have a confession to make,” she said, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Okay.”

“When we do it... I mean, even when you’re inside me and not touching my breasts at all, I get all this energy in my chest. This is going to sound completely weird... Don’t laugh, but it’s like my boobs can have their own orgasms. Not separate ones, I mean it’s all connected inside, but... I don’t even know how to describe it. Like my boobs have their own clits. Like they have dozens of clits. And my nipples... They might as well be made up of nothing but clits.”

“Wow,” I said.

“That must sound completely crazy, like I’m exaggerating all over the place.”

“It sounds completely sexy.”

“I feel so sexy! Like, epic sex inside!”

“Okay. So when I do something like this...” I said, reaching forward and holding the underside of her left breast, taking hold of the nipple and rolling it hard, simultaneously mind-breathing unnatural heat into both boobs.

“Oh fuck!”

“And if I do this along with that...” I said, reaching between her legs with my other hand, finding her already as hot and damp as a rainforest. I stroked up the length of her labia, lightly tapping her real clitoris as I imagined her tits as she’d described them, with countless interior clitorae and her nipples stuffed fat with something like clit-sauce.

Dawn’s legs jerked open with reflex rapidity, and her eyes rolled back exposing the whites. She looked completely taken, that fast, by what I could make her feel, and she made a sound that seemed to come from much deeper than her voice-box or her lungs. Her body shook and just like that she came with a guttural outpouring of breath, her body bouncing up before landing in a spread-legged position that gave my rock-hard cock a pathway into all that tight steamy wetness. It felt like she was slippery around me in a whole new way, her pussy glove-tight and monsoon wet.

I kept imagining tit-clits firing as I pumped into her, roughly grabbing at her boobs, pulling them towards me and banging them together. I could feel the pounding of breast into breast, and the rapid-fire cumsplosions, over and over, my God. Multiple orgasms machine-gun style, and they really did seem to be centered in both breasts, twin epicenters of sudden release that sent shockwaves to her tunnel to be passed through both of our bodies.

Her tits were hot to touch in my hands, and it felt great, not scary. I didn’t think she was worrying about that just then, and I hoped she felt something of my attitude—let her tits burn the whole fucking bed for all I cared. Let them set the both of us on fire if this was what fire felt like. Hell, let them burn the whole damn world with this energy, and make fucking everybody cum.

* * *

When we awakened in the morning, Dawn wondered whether all that had transpired the night before might have been some strange dream. But we had her partially melted bodystocking for evidence, and, still unseen, our first go-round of sex in my camera.

She had to be at work at nine, and was afraid to watch the footage before leaving. She said she was afraid it would make her want to make love again, but I got the sense, without her coming straight out and saying it, that she almost craved the chance to go into a familiar routine, just to get re-grounded. She continued to believe that she was the sex freak, her tits like icebergs, huge for all to see but with a whole lot more hidden under the surface.

It was easy to be a good boy that morning, what with all the super-fucking during the night. I didn’t make her tits go nuts for more sex, and I even fixed her breakfast as she showered. When she showed up at the kitchen table in the same jeans and high collared T-shirt uniform as always, I knew she was clinging to the ordinary and familiar as a coping mechanism. She needed time to digest her new reality, the reality which included boobgasms and the possibility of needing to replace any soon-to-be melted lingerie after having sex.

“I want you here when I get home from work,” she said at the door.

“I’ll stay here most of the day if you don’t mind. I want to research websites and all that, maybe even bring my computer here to create a couple of templates.”

“I can’t think about any of that right now. I’m afraid...” She looked down at her T-shirt, probably imagining it burning away while ringing up a customer at the school store.

I kissed her good-bye and the moment she was gone I loaded the footage of our sex onto her computer, and watched it. It was incredible sex action bordering on the fantastic, like some sort of porn film re-worked by a Hollywood special effects studio. Because of the positioning of her body, I wasn’t able to see Dawn’s tits melting the opening in her bodystocking, but the evidence was there in a hissing sound and a sudden rise of smoke. It hadn’t happened gradually, a little gentle melting here leading to a tiny puff there. When her tits had done their impossible heat thing, they did it the fast and furious way.

It got me really hard. And the way our bodies shuddered when we came, and kept shuddering, and kept shuddering... I thought we looked and sounded like two people finding out that sex was electrocution, the good kind of electrocution.

I wasn’t crazy about seeing myself in the footage. It wasn’t any sort of shyness about my body or my cock; more the same sort of thing that Dawn was worried about, of being recognized if something like this ever went up on the web. And male-female hardcore fucking, even magical lingerie-melting hardcore fucking, would chase away just as many viewers as it would attract. If we were going to build Dawn a big-boob website and rake in the dough, it needed to be all about how sexy she could be all by herself.

I looked at porn after that, trying to focus on design and presentation, absorbing how the look and features of a website could enhance or detract from a woman’s appeal. I used the response of my dick as a guide, and realized that there was no one trick or type of presentation that got me going, yet certain ones made me so horny that I’d glance at the clock to see how long before Dawn would be home to fuck me silly. I preferred certain camera angles—a low viewpoint up a woman’s torso with her tits projecting out into space was a particular favorite, as was the reverse, with the camera up high. Yet a straight-on view could be just as enticing if some other quality was in the mix, so what was the quality that made the difference?

One particular video that tortured my dick consisted of a college-age redhead, no name, leaning over her computer, bra-bound boobs bulging the top of a simple taupe-colored dress. She stepped back to strip while dancing, nothing more, but her body was so tight and fine when revealed, her natural breasts so big and firm, that nothing more was required. I replayed that one several times, and noticed that there was one more element that made it work—you never saw the girl’s entire face, but enough of her chin and mouth showed to see that she was A: gorgeous, and B: confident as hell that everybody who saw her body would want to fuck her. She dripped sexual confidence, and the attitude radiated right off the computer screen.

“Plus she’s a redhead,” I said, realizing how much I liked the combination of red tresses and huge tits. It looked great on film and it looked great on Dawn when she’d put on her Diora wig the other day. Another noteworthy video showed a slim, large-breasted woman—another redhead, hmm—lying on a bed, the camera stationary from a viewpoint high above. The woman, at first in a tanktop and panties, began to masturbate with her hands, and as she heated up the clothing came off. The lighting was dim and dramatic, and the camera acted more like a floating voyeur this time, peering down upon a very private and interior journey towards pleasure. And when the woman came, her face and boobs deepening in color, there was no doubt that we were witnessing an intense and very personal moment.

If you could just bottle whatever she had, I thought, trying to decipher what got me hot. Some dance-tease videos didn’t have it; others did. Some masturbation-to-orgasm videos looked like the action was a mechanical assignment, not a climb to the Promised Land. So it wasn’t what it was; it was how authentic it was, and how much the model got into what it was.

Authenticity, that was the thing. The heat had to be real. The teasing had to be real, like it turned the model on to know how she was exciting so many through a lens. In the case of the redhead dancing in front of a webcam, it was all in her mouth, the certain knowledge that her body was so good that the viewer him-or-herself was getting wet or hard. In an example like the overhead masturbation session, the authenticity was right there in the model’s body and expression, that steady climb towards a cliff named Certain Orgasm. And the cumming was real, not acted out.

No acting, that was the other thing. Acting out sex was fake; in fact, acting out scenarios that led to sex usually seemed incredibly fake. Everybody knew the hot babe and pool-boy scenario, and I thought even a trope like that could produce real heat if the woman really was desperate to fuck the pool-boy. It was real sex and real heat that could communicate through the filter of a lens, and what a weapon I had to wield, the ability to make Dawn feel things other women would die to feel, just by aiming hyper-sex into her tits.

We were going to come up with one rocking site for her, with content like no one would even be able to believe.

Yet they would.

* * *

I showed her the video of our fucking when she got home from work. She watched it open-mouthed, drawing in air at the point where her tits burned away the fabric holding them in.

“It really happened!” she whispered.

I was about to make her tits believe it was the sexiest thing in the world, but stopped myself when they pretty much did that on their own. Her nipples hardened and she licked her lips, a hand reaching out to rest on the inside of my thigh. Somewhere during the day, she had begun to think of nylon-melting tits as more sexy than freaky.

“Show me more,” she said, and I could feel how it was getting her hot to watch us cumming on-screen. When we were in full orgasm mode, our bodies being jolted and re-jolted, she moaned and her hand went hard into my cock. “I’ve seen people have sex,” she said, that hand becoming a playmaker. “What we have together, what we can feel together... It’s really special, isn’t it? Incredibly special.”

I nodded, or my cock did.

“And I’m sexy!” she added. “I mean I look at that... Hell, I’d want to fuck me. And you... Let’s do it!” And she unzipped my pants, fishing to pull me out.

There are different kinds of hard, the cock’s energy kind and the resisting the cock’s energy kind, even if temporarily. “Not yet,” I said, backing away. “That passion you’re feeling, let’s see it express itself on film.”

“The last time we tried that...”

“Shhh! Dress up, red hair this time. We’ll make this all about you; if it turns out good it might even be the first offering for your site. We’ll shoot you doing something simple and uncomplicated, that you make sexy as hell just by being you.”

“But not me. I’ll be... Scarlet? Do you like that name?”

I thought about the internet redheads I’d been getting hard over during the day. “Scarlet is perfect.”

“I don’t know how this is going to work, though, not unless you’re there touching me. I mean, it’s you I feel so sexy with.”

Time to steer her where she needed to go. “Dawn, let’s get real. You look like a living walking sexbomb. You used to feel awkward about it but I know you’re not delusional, you can see how incredible your body is. Also, I’m not the one who’s so hot I can melt clothing without scorching any flesh. There’s something special or even magical about you. You understand that, right? You didn’t know it until now because you hardly ever had any sex, but you’re magic.”

“I... guess?”

“That’s an evasion.”

“You’re right. I was afraid all morning at work that I’d think about last night and my bra would start smoking. Then I thought of that and all I wanted was to come back here and feel the way you make me feel again, and I almost hoped my bra would catch fire. I’m all mixed-up... I mean it’s all so much to take in! What my breasts did to my lingerie... I don’t understand it, only I keep thinking maybe there was a reason I’ve felt self-conscious about my breasts all those years. They’re...”

“Gorgeous beyond belief, and somehow as special inside as they look outside. Which means lots of people wanting to see you on a website, right?”

“Right.”

“So let’s film you, okay?”

“Let me shower first.”

Aha, the ubiquitous big tits in a shower video. “Can you shower with your wig and make-up on? Would that work?”

“Sure, if the water’s not too hot and I keep it off my face.”

“I’ll set up a light in the bathroom, then. You just come in and shower.”

“Nothing else? I just shower?”

“That’s all,” I said, thinking it the perfect scenario. Her tits wouldn’t be able to burn anything with water coursing all over them.

* * *

Again she had just enough make-up around the big eyes that she really did begin to look like a different woman, maybe her equally stacked sister or a cousin. I thought there was a kind of poetry in that, because she was probably no more the Dawn I’d met a few days ago than I was the Martin who had innocently bumbled his way to the tropics.

The video outline was this: We were shooting a tease film that highlighted Dawn’s topheavy anatomy, nothing more. She would cosplay as Scarlet, a woman who got turned on when being filmed performing simple around-the-house tasks for an audience. When I described all that Dawn’s nose scrunched, and she said she didn’t know if she could act out feeling desirous if the spirit wasn’t moving her. Acting—thank goddesses I could provide the spirit so we wouldn’t have to deal with that. I told her not to worry and not to think of performing at all, to just shower normally and follow the signals she felt inside her body. If she felt sexy, fine; if not, just close her eyes and turn her body in different directions for her viewers to enjoy.

I decided to forego a tripod so I could act fluidly in the confined space as needed. We started in the hallway with her body wrapped in a towel, the camera following behind as she entered the bathroom. She turned on the water, adjusted the temperature and casually removed the towel, stepping inside the shower while failing to close the glass partition so I could have my view.

Her body, so tight and toned with those unexpected proportions, really was a wonder to behold. Light glistened off wet contours and her tits had the shine of elongated spheres, water pouring down them in curving rivulets. Just by looking the way she looked I thought we could attract a good number of subscribers, but why film with one hand tied behind my back? We had her looks and the magic, and it would be stupid not to use both.

I waited until she applied soap to her breasts before sneaking in the first wave of tit-heat. Her hands slowed and what had been efficient cleaning gradually took on the character of lingering caresses. I’m sure the water didn’t begin to flow differently upon the planes of her body, but it was almost as if the streaming liquid became a lover, its touch loving, the cascade from both nipples like a leap of faith from two favored perches.

Dawn let out a wet moan, her eyes shut, hands and forearms slipping all over her tits. She didn’t replenish the foamy soap as it washed away, the showering no longer focused on cleansing anything. Still standing she teetered back, her shoulder blades hitting the back wall of the shower. She bent her knees out, thighs parting and in went the index and middle finger of her right hand. Her body shuddered enough to change watery pathways, something beginning to catch fire inside, and when I fanned her flames with a more overt jolt of energy, the free hand went to her tits, cupping her breasts, slipping around and pinching nipples. I thought she’d lost any awareness of the camera in the room; then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she looked up at the lens as if it were someone she’d made a devil’s bargain with.

That look, knowing and needing and almost gone. That look alone beat anything I’d ever seen on the web, and might have made an excellent ending to this particular filming session. The tease component was excellent, which meant my cock had been teased quite well, which meant I wasn’t about to stop there. When the time felt right I ramped up the sensations in her nipples and she gasped, squeezing her tits in an entirely different way. You could tell that she was gone now, gone into the pleasure of pulling and twisting her nipples, kneading and gasping and letting out little helpless cries.

I hadn’t intended this much exposure or action at the beginning but the show was so fucking hot that I undid my jeans and let them drop, my hard cock pointing its appreciation at her. She was so into her breasts that she didn’t notice at first, but when she looked at the camera next her eyes slid down and widened, and she groaned and everything about her body’s attitude and the expression on her face told a new story, that she’d seen what she needed, that she’d seen what made her tit-tease only the appetizer.

I hit her breasts hard with more need and she cried out, needing to put a hand to the shower stall wall to keep from falling. I sent in more heat and her wet breasts visibly reddened, hips gyrating below. She made odd sounds into the cascading spray and all of a sudden the water hitting her breasts began to steam, a swirling cloud of white mist rising and obscuring her face. She was taken by the heat, fondling her tits and fingering her pussy for the sheer pleasure, a hot woman’s body with huge steam-bath tits and her head in the clouds.

In some ways it was so much like the life-changing vision in Peru, making my cock so hard I had to make an executive decision to stop the filming and strip naked. I shot a sure-fire amount of heat and need into Dawn’s nerves and glands and blood and fuck yes, the tit-conflagration made even more steam and I entered that cloud, holding her from the rear with my cock like a lance between her legs, her tits soft to the touch and hot like the sun might be hot, yet not hurting the greedy flesh of my hands. Her pussy felt red and scorching as I slip-jammed into it, and I just beamed sex into her tits and nipples and made her cum as I pounded, turning her into a screaming, bouncing, cumming mermaid. With red hair.

I didn’t let up on what I was doing to her tits. I let her thrash and splash and cum again, her arms slapping at the tiles, swinging boobs spraying water with tidal force.

“Oh God I need it! I need it!” she cried into the steam, all while bending at the waist and lifting her rear high in full surrender.

This part wasn’t on film but that hardly mattered. What we had already, and could have more of, every time I turned a camera on and did my thing...

Houston, and any other location with internet access—I believe we have a new porn sensation.