The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Echo Effect”

By Captain Eazy

5

Brandine went to graduation with a few thousand in her bank account and came out with six times that—the college had direct-deposited her separation bonus. People were asking her why she didn’t stay on—the students raved about her, and they had tested through the roof on the department-wide comp finals. The other graders were astonished at how good the essays were and even spot-checked, having a dozen of her students re-sit the exam to prove that nobody had cheated. Brandine just smiled. “I think it’s best for my career if I move on,” she said, and then of course everyone agreed with her.

As a first step, she decided on a name change—to Brandi, a cuter name than the clunky Brandine. Leonora had pointed Brandi to a conference, the National Language Arts meeting in New York. It was the usual academic conference: People read papers, schmoozed, picked up the gossip, and the desperate and hopeful ones had preliminary interviews with representatives of various colleges and universities. Laurelwood happened to be sending two interviewers in English, and thanks to Leonora’s pull, Brandi was now set up for a fifteen-minute get-acquainted chat with them. It wasn’t enough to get her hired, but she could make the contact and who knew what might happen from there on?

The conference was in early June, running from a Thursday through Sunday noon, and her preliminary interview was set for Saturday afternoon at four—a good time for her, since it would be the last of the day, and if the interviewers got . . . interested enough, it could be prolonged. Brandi did her homework: The interview team was a man and woman, Professors Aidan Derrick and Maida Semmels. Both were in their mid-thirties and were mid-level administrators, he Assistant Chair of English, she Director of Composition. As it happened, one of Leonora’s friends from another private university was going to the same conference. He was fifty, a distinguished Professor of English, and he’d written a paper on William Blake that had been accepted for delivery at the conference and surely would be published in a prestigious journal.

As soon as graduation was over, Leonora called her friend, Professor Willoughby—he lived about seventy miles away—about her bright young protégé Brandi, and the professor had courteously agreed to meet her. Brandi drove over, visited him in his office, charmed him, got an invitation to go home with him—his wife had been dead for three years, sadly—and then charmed the pants off him. Literally.

After a satisfying session of lapping and licking and a pleasant though not stellar fuck, Professor Willoughby showed Brandi his article, calling it up on his computer. She sat naked at the keyboard and typed in a short transitional paragraph, no more than seventy-five words, and said, “There. That’s much better.”

He was behind her, and he said, “It is. Much better!”

“You’ll give me co-author credit,” she said.

“I will!”

“You’re so sweet.”

“I am,” he said modestly.

Brandi flew to the conference, took a taxi in to the hotel, near Grand Central, and took a shower and freshened up. Her boobs were definitely bigger, perkier, more alluring. She had invested in clothing that showed her figure off better. And her black hair was glossier, her complexion more charming, her lips fuller—damn, she looked sexy! According to the conference schedule, Professor Willoughby was to read his article the next day, Friday, at a session on Romantic Poets that began at three. So Thursday evening at the welcome reception and cash bar, Brandi circulated, her throat and cleavage generously perfumed with her own pussy juices. She met dozens of people and told them they ought to attend the reading, assuring them that they’d find the article remarkable, a landmark piece of scholarship. She also told them they’d forget she suggested it.

Sure enough, the ballroom was standing-room-only for the Professor’s presentation. He looked mildly startled—he’d rarely presented a paper to more than twenty people, and five hundred crammed the room—and when he read it, they all burst into applause. He flushed with pleasure, saw Brandi in the front row, and introduced her as his co-author and a brilliant new star in the literary heavens.

Brandi had seen to it that Dr. Aiden Derrick and Dr. Maida Semmels were in the room for the reading. They whispered together, and as the scholars began to file out—they were like groupies, clustering around Professor Willoughby with fulsome congratulations, and one editor of a very prestigious journal was begging him to allow him to publish the piece—the two from Laurelwood approached Brandi and Derrick said, “Excuse me, but I think we’re interviewing you tomorrow, aren’t we?”

Brandi, too, felt very pleased. Derrick had wavy black hair, like hers, and broad shoulders, a good build and handsome features. Beside him Maida Semmels was blonde, petite, nicely rounded, and attractive. This was going to be a pleasant experience, Brandi thought. She said, “Yes, I think you are. I’ve heard so many good things about Laurelwood!”

“It’s a great place to work,” Maida said, her blue eyes twinkling. “Very collegial, with a small, supportive faculty. I have to say we’re both impressed that you worked with Dr. Willoughby. He’s a sound scholar, and this is the finest essay on Blake that we can remember.”

“Seminal,” Aidan agreed. “This will change the course of Blake studies. How much did you contribute?”

“Just a little,” Brandi said.

Dr. Willoughby came over. “Nonsense! Miss Berry was my Muse.”

“You don’t have a doctorate?” Aidan asked her.

“Not yet,” she said. “I have a Master’s, though, and I graduated summa cum laude.”

“You have plenty of time,” Maida said. “Are you doing anything for dinner?”

Well, yes she was, in fact. It turned out she was doing both of them.

They went to her suite—she had splurged, anticipating a need for space and privacy—and shared a shower for three in the big, sybaritic stall. “Don’t look at me,” Maida kept saying, giggling, and trying to hide her breasts, which were pretty but just a bit on the small side. And Aidan was, well, not very well hung. His dick was long enough, but skinny. That was okay. Brandi was confident now that she could handle that.

They took turns licking her pussy, until both Aidan and Maida looked happily dazed and glazed. Then Brandi, who had heated up, began to take charge of the fun. In the enormous California king-sized bed, she had Aiden fuck Maida doggy-style while Maida licked and nibbled her pussy. Maida seemed fascinated by Brandi’s perky pearl of a clit—she had made it bigger and more sensitive, like her nipples, and she enjoyed orgasm after orgasm every time Maida sucked it in and polished it with her tongue—and she heard Maida humming and moaning as Aidan thrust in and out of her with a wet, slurpy sound. “Don’t cum!” Brandi ordered Aidan. “I’ll make it up to you. Maida, you can cum as often as you like.”

And she did, several times uttering a muffled “Oh, fuck!” Then they changed around. Aidan lay back and Maida and Brandi gave him a fantastic double blowjob. When Maida sucked the helmet of his cock into her mouth, Brandi teased and lashed the shaft with her tongue, and then they traded places. “Mind if I fuck your boyfriend?” Brandi asked Maida sweetly, and she grinned and shook her head no. Brandi got into position and slipped him inside her, kneeling over him, and had Maida sit on his face while Aidan tongue-fucked her to even more orgasms. Maida and Brandi leaned forward and kissed deeply, sucking on each other’s tongues, and Brandi tightened her pussy until even Aidan’s skinny shaft did the trick. Finally, she said, “All right, all together now, one, two, three—cum! Cum like crazy!”

Maida reeled and almost fainted, and Aidan shouted out something that was muted by Maida’s pussy. They all three lay together cuddling, stroking, kissing, and teasing for a long time. Then Brandi said, “Maida, would you like bigger tits?”

Maida crossed her hands over them and blushed. “Well, yes, but—”

“How about a clit like mine? Do you like it?”

“Oh, God, yeah!” Maida said. “It’s great!”

“And would you like Aidan to be a little bigger where it counts?”

“Well . . . I’m not complaining.”

“Do it,” Aidan said. “I hate stripping down in the locker room at school.”

So Brandi gave them the Treatment, or a partial one, using the real stuff, full strength: She bathed Maida’s tits with hot compresses of the liquid, gave her a douche of it, and had her lie marveling at the tingly sensation while she dipped Aidan’s prick. She then made some bawdy suggestions about growth. Sure enough, by midnight Aidan’s cock was a little thicker (a bit longer, too, not that it really needed to be) and Brandi’s nipples were protruding and stuff, while her clit, though not visibly much altered, was so sensitive that a touch of Aidan’s finger or tongue gave her a squealing orgasm.

Then to make sure, Brandi lay on her back and had Maida lick her again. This time she said, “Has Aidan ever taken you up the ass? Honest, now.”

Maida’s face was flame-colored. “N-no. We n-never did that.”

“It’s about time,” Brandi decided. “Can you fit him into your tight schedule? You want to, right?”

“W-well—y-yeah.”

“Tell him. Ask him.”

Very sweetly, Maida said, “Aidan, will you fuck my ass?”

“Aidan,” Brandi warned, “be very gentle. Maida, you’ll find yourself nice and loose, and if it hurts, it will come across as pleasure, not pain. Gently, now!”

Maida moaned as Aidan began to push. Then she gasped. “It—it feels good!”

She began to suck Brandi’s clit again, and Brandi bent her leg and ran her toes through Maida’s blonde hair. “That’s nice,” she said. “Now, wouldn’t the two of you just love to have me on the faculty at your college?”

“Mm-hm!” Maida said, and Aidan groaned an agreement.

“Then I’m the best interview you’ve ever had. You’re going to get me an appointment on campus for a real interview, and Maida, you’re going to let me know who the interviewers will be. You’re gonna prep them for me, okay?”

“Mm-hm!” Maida said again, her tongue flicking. Then she bucked and cried out, ripped by a thundering orgasm like none she’d ever had.

Brandi grinned. “And, honey, if there are women, you won’t mind if Aidan takes care of prepping them, right?”

Aidan pulled out of Maida’s asshole, his cock growing limp, drooling cum. “No,” Maida said. “No, not at all.”

And so the two of her new friends then had a nice hot bath in the original version of the solution. It would wear off in a few months, Ben had told her. However, like Aidan, that was long enough.

6

Brandi got ready by yet another application of the full-strength potion. It was her fifth treatment, and although Ben had said she needed only one, the stuff left her feeling so damned good—and gave her more and more control over her body—and she didn’t want to take any chances. The Tuesday after her encounter with Maida and Aidan, she got a phone call from the former. Maida said that the interview panel would consist of three committee members; then she had to pass muster with the college chancellor and with the president. She named them all: The committee reps were three tenured faculty members, Dr. Henry Nessup, Dr. Alice MacDownall, and Dr. Eve Lightsbury. Nessup was senior. “You take him,” Brandi said. “Remember what you have to do. Let him think you’re attracted to him, and make sure he licks your pussy for five minutes or so. Let Aidan handle the other two. You have to get them in the mood to interview me. I’ll take care of the rest.” The Chancellor was a young man, Chandler Esbat, and the President was a middle-aged woman, Yesenia Dacoit. Brandi would worry about them later.

Maida’s conditioning held, and she happily agreed to fuck Dr. Nessup and to have Aidan fuck the two women. They would, of course, have to suck him off, too—for at least five minutes. “Don’t worry,” Brandi said, “when I get there, if any of this is a bad memory I’ll take it away.”

“Thank you,” Maida said.

Mischievously, Brandi asked, “How are the tits and clit?”

“Bigger!” Maida said. “I want to thank you by eating your pussy again!”

“That’s a date, darling,” Brandi told her.

She went on a shopping spree, and when the call came—she was asked if she cared to interview, of course—she was completely prepared. She had, well, persuaded the sharpest guy at Hangley Hills to write her CV for her, and it was truly impressive and professional. She had stellar letters of recommendation from her superiors at Hangley Hills and from Professor Willoughby. In the fall the Blake article would be published, with her listed as the second author. It all made her an exceptionally formidable candidate for an entry-level appointment.

Not that she planned to stay on that level very long.

Brandi had already found that she could give herself suggestions that took hold—and not just to make her boobs bigger (they were now perfect, and if she’d been interested she could have had a terrific career as a porn star) or her clit more sensitive. She could order herself to have perfect memory for anything she read or heard. She knew how to get all the help she wanted. If Laurelwood demanded a faculty that had PhDs, by God she would have her PhD in record time.

She flew to the New England airport closest to Laurelwood, and there to meet her was Maida, looking radiant. “Wow,” Brandi said. “Your breasts really have grown bigger!”

“Not as nice as yours,” she pouted. “Come on.”

Brandi followed her to an airport shuttle, which took them to a parking lot some distance from the airport. “I borrowed this,” Maida said, leading her to a white van with the green Laurelwood logo on the side. “Plenty of room.”

Conveniently, the windows were darkly tinted. Conveniently, there was a soft foam pad in the back. Conveniently, neither of them was hampered with bra or panties, and within a minute of getting in the van, they were naked and entwined, hungrily kissing each other, pinching each other’s nipples, rubbing their tits together. It was warm inside, and they soon had a sheen of sweat lubricating their bodies. “Oh, my God,” Maida said. “You practically glow!

They rolled into a sixty-nine, this time with Brandi on the bottom. She felt Maida nuzzling her folds and her sharp-soft tongue parting her pussy lips, and she returned the favor. Since her treatment, Maida’s flavor was distinctive, mellow and rather fruity, and her juices flowed freely. They tongue-fucked each other, driving their tongues as deeply as they could into each other’s pussy. Maida’s skin was all slick-silk and hot, and she gurgled and mewed and purred in her excitement. Brandi said, “Cum for me, cum hard, the best one yet,” and Maida stiffened, threw her head back, and screamed!

“Now make me cum, sweetie,” Brandi said. She willed her clit to swell even more, felt Maida take it between her lips, felt the hot stab of her tongue, and then everything reeled and she pushed up hard and trembled all over from the release.

Still they didn’t drive away. They lay stroking and fingering each other. Maida asked, “Don’t you ever take that off?”

“What, the necklet?” Brandi asked. “No. It’s my good luck charm. Don’t worry about it. Lie back and let me watch you masturbate for a while. Your pussy’s so pretty.”

Obediently, Maida sprawled, legs parted, ass partly lifted. With her left hand she spread her pussy lips wide. “Like that?” she asked. “Like that?”

“Mm, yes. Now use your fingers.”

Maida did, at first teasing the spot right below her clit and right above the upper split of her labia, then slipping first one, then two fingers inside. The van filled with her dizzying aroma. Brandi realized that if she hadn’t already been so overwhelmed by her own scent—the echo effect, as Ben had told her—she would have worshipped this pretty woman. She lay lazily on one hip, her right leg raised, knee bent, and with one hand she played with her own breasts and with the other she masturbated herself. “You can’t cum yet,” she playfully told Maida.

“Nnggh,” Maida moaned.

Brandi made her keep it up for a few more minutes and then said, “You know, darling, I think you’d cum if somebody put a finger in your pretty pink asshole. You think?”

“Yesss,” she pleaded.

“Want me to?”

“Please….” Almost a sob.

“Here it is, all lubed and ready.” She gently stroked the puckered flesh, then pressed, and Maida opened for her and gushed.

She gasped and said, “Oh, thank you. I love fucking so much!”

“Help me get hired,” Brandi said, “and I promise you all of that you want!”

They made the drive, finally, with Maida at the wheel and Brandi in the passenger seat. If it had been a convertible, they might have driven with the top down. Since it was a van, they drove with their bottoms down and played with each other’s pussies the whole time. At the apartment house, they acknowledged the civilities by pulling their skirts back on before they moved Brandi’s carry-ons into the apartment Maida and Aidan shared, and then they carried on as a trio.

Aidan was hard, ready, and naked when they walked in. The women were naked ten seconds later, kneeling, with Aidan’s cock deep in Maida’s mouth and Brandi’s talented tongue teasing his swollen balls. When she got her turn at his rod, she noted that the treatment had paid off for him, too—maybe eight inches now, she guessed, and proportionately thick, exquisitely springy. They stumbled to the bedroom, where Brandi lay spread-eagled and Aidan climbed atop her for a missionary ride . . . with Maida between their thighs, alternately licking Brandi’s pussy-edge and as much of Aidan’s dick and balls as her tongue could touch. Brandi took Aidan’s hot gush of cum, and then, the edge off, she let Aidan rest while she and Maida gave him a very hot show. He sat with his back against the wall, they sixty-nined each other lying across his lap—his reawakening cock tapped Brandi’s side repeatedly—and he helped them out by stretching his arms apart, caressing their round, taut buttocks, and teasing their slits with his fingers. It was the perfect way to ease the tensions of a long flight.

When things settled down at last, Maida and Aidan gave Brandi their report. Drs. Nessup, MacDownall, and Lightsbury were well-primed—Maida had serviced Nessup twice, and he was in a sex daze, and Aidan had fucked both MacDownall and Lightsbury and had made them suck him off three times each. And then the greedy Maida had made, well, oral arguments with them all, including a prolonged cunnilingus session with Dr. Nessup (“He didn’t really know what he was doing, so I let it go on and on”) and briefer, but still intense ones with the women, both of those going well past the fifty-minute mark. She had not been able to see the Chancellor, Dr. Esbat, though—he’d been away abroad for weeks and was due back the next day, the very day of the crucial interview. As for President Dacoit, Aidan and Maida had tag-teamed her, and she had done both the cocksucking and the cunnilngus that Brandi had ordered her two faculty friends to provide her.

“Looks like it’s up to me now,” Brandi said.

7

Though none of the interview committee was particularly appealing, they were so well-primed that persuading them that she was the woman for the job was not difficult at all. Brandi, Maida, and Aidan had an enthusiastic session in his office just before her meeting with the committee. Maida brought them a carafe of water and three glasses, their rims lovingly wiped between Brandi’s flowing pussy lips just before being put on the tray. They all three seemed thirsty, and when Brandi put her case to them, her voice made much more persuasive by the low-frequency amplifier, they told her they’d recommend her for the position.

The Chancellor, Dr. Esbat, was available an hour later. Again Brandi had Maida and Aidan lick her very thoroughly so she would go in steaming with pheromones. To make it easier for them to perfume the air, she wore no panties under her short skirt. She was pleased to find that Dr. Esbat was no older than forty—and a good-looking youngish forty at that, with tennis muscles and a tan—and that he had a ready smile. Casually dressed in an open-necked shirt and khakis, he met her at his office door to shake her hand—she prolonged it for a few seconds, breathing toward him as she smiled—and when she suggested that he might want to close the door, he did so at once, without a question.

Then he saw her into the visitor’s chair, while he sat across from her at his desk and looked at a folder. “The interview committee worked fast, I see,” he told her. “Mm. Mm-hmm. You really impressed them, Miss Berringer.” He leaned back in his desk chair and said, “As far as I can see, your only real drawback is that you lack a terminal degree. Do you have hours past the Master’s?”

“Twenty-four,” she said. “Six in graduate-level French, the rest in British and American Romanticism.”

“Ah, le français! Parlez-vous couramment dans la langue, alors? Vous parlez et lisez bien?” Dr. Esbat asked.

She smiled and replied, “Mais bien sûr! Monsieur le Chancelier, vous verrez rapidement que ma langue est superbe, de la crème, souple et très talentueux.”

“Very good!” he said with a chuckle. “Parisian accent, too! So you have a superb tongue for languages, you say?”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed, though actually she had told him her tongue was superb, the cream of the crop, supple and talented. And she hadn’t meant just languages. She spread her legs a bit, letting the air get to the place where it would do the most good. Brandi herself could smell the fragrance. As for Chancellor Esbat—he looked somewhat absorbed in this thoughts.

He cleared his throat. “Would you be interested in—” he trailed off for a moment, looking distant. “In, uh, I’m sorry, lost my train of thought. Interested in working toward a doctorate? With your credentials, if you could be accepted into the graduate program at Samuels, you should be able to complete the degree in two years. Assuming you can write a dissertation rapidly.”

Damn. He was under an air-conditioning vent, and that was working against her. “I’d love to earn my doctorate. I’d have no trouble being accepted into the Samuels program, and they’ve got some notable Romantic scholars. Under them I could do the whole program in a year,” she said confidently. “And teach full-time.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Samuels is very discriminating, you know. Romantic Studies is their showpiece program, a demanding one, even with your head start.”

“Let me show you something,” she said. She reached down beside the visitor’s chair, took a folder from her portfolio and went around the desk to stand beside him. “Here, read these.” She stood at his elbow, thighs parted.

The letters attested to her hard work, her remarkably firm grasp of the subject, how she was able to squeeze meaning and a text for its subtleties, her oral skills in teaching, how she put her head down and really explored a subject, and her bright prospects coming. She leaned over him as he read them, his hands beginning to tremble visibly. His voice had thickened. “These, these are—yes, certainly, they are—remarkable.”

She chuckled. Something else had thickened along with his voice. “I see they excite you,” she said. She bent closer, nudging his arm with her breast, and reached down to pat the visible bulge in his pants.

He gasped. “Really, Miss, ah, Berringer, that’s—”

“That’s good,” she said huskily.

“That’s good, very . . . very good.”

He felt big. And ready.

She moved around, stepping over his legs, straddling him, arching her back and pulling up her skirt to reveal her pussy, putting it on display for him. Her pinkly dripping, gleaming, tempting, irresistible pussy. “It’s good . . . and this will be better.”

He breathed heavily, his eyes locked on her pubic mound, the curls of dark hair, and the glossy pinkness of her sex. Her glistening, hot sex.

“Let me make you more comfortable, sir,” she said. She slipped to her knees, spread his legs gently, and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. He raised enough for her to pull them down below his knees, and a very admirable dick sprang up, long and thick as Aidan’s, with no help from the magic elixir. “Just relax,” she purred, leaning forward and stroking the hard, throbbing shaft. She bent her head and planted a kiss on the purple helmet, then ran her tongue around and around the slit, tasting the slick saltiness of his pre-cum. Then she sucked the head into her mouth and reached down to fondle his balls while she blew him. With her free hand she stroked her pussy, dipping two fingers well in, coating them with her juices. She reached up then with that hand, slowly, teasingly unbuttoning his shirt, and then she put her wet fingers under his nose. He sucked on them.

Five minutes, no, seven, of good, enthusiastic cunnilingus from him later, she let him fuck her, and he did it like a champion—for ten enthusiastic strokes, and then he couldn’t hold back and exploded and his hot cum shot into her. He murmured an apology, and she cradled his head against her breasts and told him it was all right. “And by the way,” she said, “You enthusiastically support the interview committee’s decision.”

“Of course I do,” he said, nuzzling her puffed, stiff nipples.

“Next time,” she promised, “you’ll fuck me a lot longer.”

It was only fair. After all, she’d just fucked him.

Dacoit’s office next, upstairs in the same building. Brandi had taken some time to freshen up, and she made sure that the Chancellor’s clothing was in order, before she took the elevator to the top floor. The President’s office occupied the whole floor, together with an anteroom, a couple of restrooms, and a meeting room. No one was at the reception desk, but Brandi smiled as she heard familiar sounds from the inner office. She let herself in.

Three naked women lay on the thick carpet, entangled, sucking, licking, groping. Maida was one. The younger one, a red-headed twenty-something with a hell of a good body, had to be the receptionist, and the third, with black hair streaked dramatically in one place with gray, had to be President Yesenia Dacoit. She was exotic, bronze-skinned, liquid brown eyes slanted provocatively, swelling breasts, a good butt, and long, long legs, currently wrapped around her receptionist, who was eating her out while she serviced Maida.

It took Brandi less than fifteen seconds to be in the nude for love. “I’ll take over from here, darling,” she said, kissing Aida. Aida swung off, and for a moment Yesenia’s brown eyes popped wide in shock and shame at the stranger above her. Then Brandi settled her own juicy pussy down over her mouth, and the compelling aroma hit Yesenia and her eyes grew dreamy as her tongue resumed its play. “President Dacoit,” Maida said primly, “I’d like you to meet our candidate, Brandi Berry.”

Maida had had only one real treatment with Ben’s second-skin formula; Brandi had had so many more that her pheromones overrode all the others. Before they had finished, which they did in an exquisitely pleasurable daisy chain, mouth to pussy, four women enthusiastically licking each other, sucking each other’s clits, fingering slits, reaching simultaneous mind-blowing orgasms, Brandi was in command of all of them. The president of the college was most important, but having her secretary in thrall was an added bonus, an ace up Brandi’s sleeve if she ever needed it. From now on, Brandi would know everything that came through the president’s office if she needed to.

She made them forget the details. They knew only that Brandi had the job, oh yes, she had the job. They had every confidence in her. And they liked her—no, they loved her, they would do anything for her. More literally than they suspected.

The letter offering her a contract was ready for her to pick up the next day in the president’s office. President Dacoit welcomed her aboard and told her how happy they would be to have her. They discussed salary. The starting salary for an entry-level position was low, of course, as the president told her apologetically.

“But in my case you might make an adjustment,” Brandi said pleasantly.

Dr. Dacoit smiled. “Just what I was going to say! An additional . . . five thousand dollars a year?”

“I could do my graduate work with an additional fifteen thousand a year,” Brandi pointed out sweetly.

“Fifteen, of course, I meant to say. I’ll arrange it.”

“Thank you,” Brandi said.

She was sure that she would be worth the investment—in so many ways.

8

“A private chartered jet?” Ben asked. “Sis, what gives?”

“I thought I’d splurge,” Brandi told him. “I got a generous separation check, a good job beginning in September, and so what the hell? I thought I’d come and visit my big brother again. You’re looking well.”

Ben took his eyes off the highway for a moment and glanced at her. “You’re looking fantastic.

“Thanks. So tell me—how’s your job?”

Ben chuckled, changing lanes for the exit. “I can’t talk about that, Sis.”

“Not even to tell me how it’s going?”

“Well, you know. We keep plugging away.”

“Any more patents?”

He shook his head. “No, not while I’m a government employee. But the ones I got before starting with my job are paying off nicely, thank you. You’ll see—” he broke off and looked puzzled. “Wait, you have seen my place. You—didn’t you come to visit me earlier in the summer?”

“Absent-minded computer geek,” Brandi said. “Yes, silly. Don’t you remember?”

“Kind of,” he said ruefully. “It’s sort of foggy, to tell you the truth. I guess I was sort of preoccupied. I’ll make it up to you this time. The long weekend is yours.” It was Thursday evening, and the Fourth of July fell on the following Monday. Brandi was feeling more and more horny, and when they’d turned off the Interstate and were on a residential street, she raised up her ass, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, and pushed her jeans and panties down to her knees. A startled Ben said, “Sis! What the hell?”

“It’s completely normal,” she told him. “Just ignore it.”

For a second Ben didn’t respond, but then he said, “I’ll be glad to get the rest. I’m working on several related projects, and it’s been go-go-go. How was your interview?”

Brandi had hitched herself forward in the seat and was masturbating, running two fingers over and over her slit, which was becoming nicely lubricated. “I got the job, I told you,” she said. “It’s fantastic. One of the top universities in the country for my field. Can you smell my pussy?”

He sniffed. “Yeah, very nice. Sorry, I don’t know where my mind was. Congrats on the job, sis! We’ll have to celebrate.”

She had two fingers inside now and was pumping her hips. “Mm. Yeah, I mean to. Ooh. Here, taste.”

She held her fingers up and he sucked them. “Good,” he said.

Brandi glanced down at his lap. “Looks like you’re getting hard.”

“I can’t help it, Sis. You know you shouldn’t tease me.”

“Just you wait,” she said as he turned onto the drive that led down to the underground parking deck. She groped him in the elevator—his cock felt hard through his khakis, longer than she remembered, must the effect of the orange gunk—and when a lady got on at the second floor, she stepped back demurely, stuck her hand down the back of Ben’s pants, and caressed his taut butt. She even moved lower, around the curve, and tickled his balls from the rear, though she had to lean against him. People got on and off without noticing, and when they got to the penthouse floor, Ben was shaking so hard he could barely get the key in the lock. They shed their clothes just inside and he fucked her standing up, her back to the wall, her weight on her left leg and her right leg bent, her heel against the crack in his butt, urging him one and on. “You can’t cum until I tell you,” she whispered in her brother’s ear.

She made him work for it. She came three or four times, then they lay on the floor and she rode him cowgirl-style for another two orgasms, and still he writhed and grimaced and begged to cum. She climbed off him, said, “I’ll suck you off and you can come in my mouth, but you have to eat my pussy.” They sixty-nined each other, she taking him deep and caressing his straining, swollen balls as she bobbed and sucked. Finally, she broke loose long enough to say, “Cum in my mouth now!” And she got her mouth back on him just in time for the jets of hot cum to squirt into her mouth, so hard and so much that she couldn’t hold it all, and some of it drooled out the corners. She swallowed, rolled off him, and admiringly stroked his cock, which was beginning to go limp. “No, you don’t,” she told him teasingly. “Get hard again for me.”

He did, immediately—the way she controlled such usually involuntary actions always amazed her. As did his cock, which was visibly a different color from his belly—the result of having been dipped in the miracle solution, she was sure—it looked bronzed and had grown two inches in length and at least an inch in girth. She nuzzled it, stroked it, and admired it. Then she rolled over onto the soft carpet so it tickled her jutting nipples and belly. She lay on her arms, her knees bent and her butt raised and said, “I want you to do my ass now. But lube me up good. You’re going to produce lots and lots of slippery precum!”

He did almost to the point of another ejaculation, but this wasn’t sperm but flowing, slick precum. He rubbed up and down her crack with it, and the stuff streamed so freely that she felt it run down both of her legs. “Slow now,” she said. “Push it in.”

Before Spring Break she had never tried, never wanted to try anal penetration, but now she loved the tightness of it, the way she could reach down and finger her own swollen clitty, pacing herself and taking her time. “Is it nice ’n tight?” she whispered.

“Oh, God, yeah!” Ben said. He was pumping her, very slowly, very carefully. “Let me cum, Sis, it’s so tight and hot!”

“Do as I tell you and I’ll let you cum,” she told him. “Now faster, but speed up a little at a time. Mm, yeah, that’s it. Deeper. I want to feel your balls slapping against me. Now harder and faster. Ohhh, that’s it!” Her fingers were going wild. Her clit throbbed, lubricated by the precum that had oozed down her slit, and she was swollen, so much that instead of the little nubbin she used to have her clit was now the size of a grape, and exquisitely sensitive. She came again and again and after the most intense orgasm she gasped, “Now you can cum!” She felt the spasm, felt the hot rush of his sperm, clenched on him, and thought she would faint from the naughty pleasure of it all.

When they separated, she said, “I think I need to wash you up. Let’s take a nice soapy shower.”

“Oh, Sis, please. . . ” he groaned. But he went with her to the shower. They fucked in a lather of suds, she giggling, he gasping. Later, lying on his big bed, she told him to get hard again and incredibly he managed it. Then she jerked him off, whispering to him what he was about to do. He came so hard that the jets hit the ceiling—three good splats, which then dripped down.

“Why are you doing this?” he groaned.

“Partly to see how far I can push you,” she said. “Partly because I need some more of the stuff. A lot more, actually, and I wanted to encourage you to get it for me. How’s the project going?”

“You know. We’re really close, but it’s not ready for production yet. We’re getting a bigger budget. They throw money at these things.”

“If you decide it doesn’t work, how long until they shut you down?”

“I don’t know. A year, anyway, maybe two.” He stirred. “Why would you think they’re going to shut us down?”

“’Cause I like being the queen bee,” she said. “I’ve soaked myself in that stuff. With it and this doohickey around my neck I can have anything I want . . . but it occurs to me that one thing I don’t want is competition. Don’t worry, Big Brother, you’re gonna come out just fine. Here’s what we’re gonna do, though. . . .”

How could he refuse? Yet the next morning as he fucked her doggy-style, he said, “Sis, you’re pushing it too far. You know why you’re so goddamn horny? The echo effect. There’s a resonance, I don’t’ know what to call it. You get people horny, you catch a little of it. You’ve got to stop using the stuff on yourself, or you’re in for serious trouble.”

“Faster and harder,” she gasped. “Oooh, yeah! I can handle it, Ben. Hey, I don’t want to rule the world . . . just a college.”

Ben made arrangements to do what she wanted that day. Then, after lunch, to her vast amusement, Brandi discovered a cache of dirty movies. “Why these, Big Brother?” she asked.

He made a face. “Ever since you and I—you know, the first time—I get horny. These get me off and help me make it through the night.”

“Get yourself a girl,” Brandi said.

“Jesus, do you know how difficult that would be? I mean, Security would be all over her. I’d have to find a girl with a clearance at least my level if not a grade higher!”

With a mischievous grin, Brandi said, “So let’s do it.”

“You don’t know—”

“Ben,” she said with an edge of command in her voice, “tell me the name of a woman with a clearance as high as you that you’d love to fuck.”

“Dr. Ransdell,” he said automatically. “Dr. Serena Ransdell, biochemist.”

“Call her.”

He resisted—a little, for half a minute—but caved. He got Serena on the phone and asked her to come over because he had something he needed to talk over with her and it had to be face to face. “About work,” he said meaningfully.

“Give me an hour,” she said.

They waited and Brandi prepared. Not quite an hour later the intercom beeped, Ben spoke to her and buzzed her in, and a couple of minutes after that she tapped on the door. Ben opened it, and a gorgeous blonde came in, very shapely with Scandinavian-blue eyes and an abundance of hair done up in a prim bun. She wore weekend clothes, a short-sleeved white top and black slacks with flat shoes. “Hi,” she said, looking around. “This is a very nice place!”

“Thanks,” Ben said, closing the door behind her. Brandi came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with three glasses. “Uh, this is my sister Brandi,” Ben said.

Serena’s smile was a little glassy. “Hello,” she said. Then, to Ben, she murmured with a little frown, “I thought we had, you know, an issue to discuss.”

“Oh, I won’t be in the way,” Brandi said with a laugh. “I’ll let you two get right to it as soon as you want. First, though, try this—it’s a very light white wine, and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t usually—” began Serena, but Brandi playfully waved a glass beneath her nose.

“Good bouquet,” Brandi said temptingly.

“Um—yes, it’s—it seems delightful,” Serena said, reaching to take the wine glass. She sniffed it again, deeply. Brandi was impishly delighted to see little peaks form on the curves of her top—her nipples were stiffening already.

“I wiped the rims with something special,” Brandi said with a wink. “It enriches the flavor, I think. Here, Ben.” She handed Ben a second glass, and she took the third. “Here’s to a great collaboration,” she said, and they clinked glasses. “Drink up,” she said.

Both Ben and Serena obeyed. When the glass was empty, Serena kept sniffing the rim, pink spots appearing in her cheeks. “Ben,” Brandi said, “go sit on the sofa. Here, Serena, I’ll take that. Do you mind if I call you Serena?”

“Ah, no—no, I don’t—ah . . . Brandi.” Her voice had become breathy, her eyes slightly unfocused. “Wow, that was—what kind of wine did you say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brandi said. “Serena, is there a man in your life? Tell me truthfully.”

“Not a special—what, why are you asking—not anybody particular, not now. I—there was—but we broke up.” She looked terminally confused. “Why am I telling you this?”

“You want to,” Brandi said, her voice low and sincere. “You feel so good when you tell me things.”

The blush deepened. “I feel strange, sort of dizzy.”

“That’ll pass. Have you ever had sex with a woman, Serena?”

“What, no—well, not really, you know, in college kissing and—I’ve never told anybody about—what was in that drink?”

Brandi was wearing a short taupe skirt and a black top. No underwear, no bra. She slipped her hands down under the hem of the skirt and dipped her fingers into the hot dripping pool of her pussy. Then she gently put her finger against Serena’s lips. “Ssh. It’s all right. You’re not afraid, you’re not worried, and you’re not scared. You feel wonderfully loose and free.” She wiped her wet finger across Serena’s lips. “Relax. Show me how you kissed a girl in college,” she said, her lips a few inches from Serena’s.

“I—mmm,” Serena moaned, pressing her soft lips to Brandi’s. Brandi’s tongue pressed between, Serena opened her mouth, and their tongues met. Serena sucked on Brandi’s, her lips writhing and warm. Brandi embraced her, one hand high on Serena’s back between her shoulders, the other slyly caressing, stroking down, over the ripe swell of the blonde girl’s buttocks, pressing, kneading, pulling her forward so their pubic arches touched and pressed together. Still the kiss went on.

When it broke, Brandi said, “Serena, just forget that Ben’s here, okay?”

“O-okay,” she said throatily.

“Let’s compare our breasts,” Brandi said, stripping off her top. Her deep coral nipples jutted lewdly. “Take yours off, too,” Brandi urged.

As though she were in a dream, Serena crossed her hands, grasped the hem of her white top, and pulled it up and over her head. She wore a thin bra underneath, also white, puckered with her own erect nipples. “That’s gotta go, too,” Brandi said, embracing the other girl, kissing her again, deeply, and then unhooking the bra. When it fell away, Serena cupped her hands over her breasts. “Don’t look.”

“Oh, but they’re beautiful,” Brandi said. “Cup them, don’t hide them. Run your hands over them and show them off. It makes you feel so good to be nasty.”

With a smile flickering on her lips, Serena did as Brandi suggested, caressing her own breasts, holding them up as if offering them. Her areolas and nipples were a pale pink, but the nipples nearly pulsed in their erection, and the areolas were puckered with bumps. “I want to taste them,” Brandi said. She leaned forward, sucked the left nipple between her lips, and began to polish it with her tongue. Serena moaned and put her hands on Brandi’s head, guiding her, pulling her closer. After a few moments, Serena’s nipples perked out even more firmly—though not nearly as long, as swollen, as Brandi’s Brandy pulled her down onto the carpet, let her lie on top of her, and had Serena suck her own nipples, which she did tentatively at first and then with a growing eagerness. “Your tongue’s so good,” Brandi said. “Taste my pussy.” She raised up, but before she could remove her skirt, Serena had tugged it off with a frantic urgency. Brandi sprawled, her legs spread, and Serena sniffed and then lapped at her pussy.

Brandi looked over at Ben and winked. He had stripped and was stroking his long, thick cock as he watched the blonde eat out his naked little sister. After a few minutes and a few orgasms, Brandi said, “Take off the rest of your clothes and turn around, Serena. Let me do you, too.”

Almost the instant Brandi’s tongue opened Serena’s tender folds, the blonde came with a jerk and a squeal. They played with tongues and fingers, and then Brandi said, “You want a cock, don’t you? You need a cock to go in your aching pussy. You need a cock.”

“Y-yeah,” Serena panted, no longer cool and distant but inflamed, eager, horny as hell.

“Ben’s got a nice cock. Look at him. He’s playing with it. So long, so thick. Bet it would feel nice all buried in your tight pussy, wouldn’t it?”

Serena was staring as if mesmerized, a smile on her face. By that time Brandi had seen it often enough before. After her passionate bout with Brandi, Serena wanted to reassure herself that she hadn’t suddenly become a full-on lesbian. Sometimes it was more interesting with the women who thought they had and loved the idea, but this was fine with Brandi. She had plans.

Serena finally answered the question: “I’d l-love it. Oh, I need a dick so badly!”

Brandi whispered, “Yeah, you do. And where do you need it?”

“In my pussy! I want Ben to fuck me! I want his dick in my pussy!”

Brandi stood and held her hand and pulled her up to her feet and then led her over to Ben. “Here you go,” she whispered. “You and Ben are going to be lovers from now on. You’re going to do any dirty thing he tells you to do from now on, and it’s going to make you feel great. You’re gonna love everything. He makes you so hot! Let’s start by sucking that great cock of his. Here, kneel down.” She loosened the bun and Serena’s blonde hair cascaded wildly down. She was already stroking Ben’s cock, looking at it almost as if she were worshiping it. Brandi caressed his swollen balls and in a husky, sexy voice, she gave Serena her instructions: “Listen to me. Nobody else is going to be able to make you cum, nobody but Ben and me. Understand?”

Too busy with Ben’s cock head, Serena just nodded and said, “Mm-hmm.”

“That’s okay, though. You’ll have the greatest orgasms of your life with us. Now, if Ben wants you to do another girl with him, or even another guy—or a whole roomful of them, and he says you can cum with others, that’s okay. Same if I tell you. But listen, Serena: None of those times will be as good as when Ben or I make you cum, okay?”

Serena, who was bobbing her head up and down on Ben’s springy cock, nodded.

“But here’s what I’ll do for you. Stop for just a second.”

Serena lifted her head, her eyes reproachful, her lips pouting. A silvery strand of precum looped from the tip of Ben’s cock to her lips. “What?” she asked, her hand still busy on Ben’s long shaft.

Brandi chuckled wickedly. “Listen. When you suck Ben’s cock, you’re going to have a little orgasm the minute you take him in your mouth. It’ll be like your tongue is an extension of your clit, and you’ll orgasm when his cock is tight on your tongue. It’ll feel good. If he cums in your mouth, you’ll have one a little bigger, a little harder, and it’ll feel even better.” She went on describing all sorts of orgasms—when she or Ben tweaked and pinched Serena’s nipples, that was one. The instant they touched her clit, that was another. The touch of their tongues on her pussy would trigger a better one, and so on, up until the moment Ben came in her pussy, between her tits, or in her ass, and those would be best of all. Except for when Serena and Brandi were together. Those would be mind-blowing.

Then without even looking at her brother, Brandi said, “Lots of pre-cum, Ben. You’ll get off in a minute.” The clear fluid flowed, streaming down over Serena’s fingers on the shaft, lubricating them, and then dripping onto Brandi’s hand as she fondled her brother’s balls. “Suck him now,” she whispered to Serena.

Obediently, eagerly, Serena opened her mouth and sucked the tip of Ben’s cock into her mouth, immediately shuddering with the promised orgasm. Brandi let the passion build and build without letting either of the two cum, until she judged the moment was right. “Okay,” she said, lying back on the rug, spreading her legs. “Now Serena, you’re going to lick my pussy. Get on your knees with your ass in the air. Ben’s gonna fuck you from behind.”

“Thank you!” Serena gasped. As Ben moved off the sofa, Serena assumed the position and began to lap and suckle Brandi’s irresistible slit. She jerked and moaned as she began, the promised orgasm taking her. Then when Ben’s super-slippery, stiff, springy dick glided into her, she had another. Lazily, Brandi let more than the necessary five minutes pass—well, that had actually passed already, but Serena was so fucking good with her tongue that Brandi just wanted to savor it—and then she gave permission, and Ben came with an impressive hot gush, and Serena threw back her head and yelped. Brandi let herself cum, too. Good? No, it was fucking fantastic!