The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The sex that night was horrible.

We’d been trying to get pregnant for two years. When Shelly first got off her birth control, the sex was great. Frequent, and she was hot for me every time. “Come give me your baby,” she’d say, and it was always perfect. After the third month without a missed period, though, we started researching ways to speed up the process. First of all, she calculated when she thought her fertile day was, based on the calendar and a vaginal thermometer. She made me wait two whole weeks, to save up my sperm, and then we made love as many times as possible for the five-day window. Still no luck. Then she read somewhere that perhaps the long abstinence was bad for my sperm count, and we developed a regimen for our lovemaking—every fourth night until the week of ovulation, when we’d go every other day for seven days. It was starting to get a little mechanical by then. Her hormones—regulated for her whole adult life by birth control—made her alternately testy and moody. We sometimes made love despite being somewhat cross with each other.

Even worse, by then, all the variety was gone. She insisted that I always be on top, to give the sperm the best chance. I suggested other positions from which gravity might assist, but these proved to be uncomfortable for her. Oral sex was out of the question—she couldn’t bear the possibility that some of that precious sperm getting wasted. After the first year, we were both extremely frustrated. Many of our friends were getting pregnant—even some who didn’t want to be. It was like a cruel joke. She decided that perhaps she was fertile on an odd cycle, and so she insisted that I put it in her every other night, and every night when she was fertile. Neither one of us was enjoying it. I actually had to insist that she suck me off before we screwed, which was nice for a while, but she resented the thought that I didn’t like her vagina enough any more.

We’d finally gone to see a fertility doctor, but we’d both been given clean bills of health, proper sperm count and apparently effective ovulation. He advised us to take some time off, reduce the stress, and start over on a more natural cycle. Things did get better with the pressure off, but Shelly seemed to think that since there was obviously plenty of healthy sperm being injected to her on a regular basis, there was more likely something wrong with her, or worse, something wrong with us, some genetic mismatch that made us incompatible.

We started to look at genetic testing, in-vitro fertilization, and other options, but as much as we wanted it, they were all too expensive. We’d already put some of our visits to the doctor on our credit cards. She even asked to borrow the money from her parents, but then they questioned whether we had the means to support a child, and she got still more upset over the whole thing. When I’d dared to suggest that we back off and let nature take its course, she exploded at me. She cried and clung to me and practically raped me, and after that even making love a few times a month was hardly even bearable, let alone pleasant.

So on that night I’d closed my eyes. She no longer asked what I thought about when I closed my eyes while I was screwing her. My lies had grown thin. If she knew that I was thinking of nearly any woman but her, what would she say? If she knew that I fantasized about my co-workers, random strangers, even, and perhaps most often, her own sister? She couldn’t know, but she probably suspected the worst.

After I was done, I gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and headed off while she held her legs closed, breathing slowly, trying to guide my little swimmers to their target by force of will. I pulled on some pants and padded the way down to my home office. I fired up a video game and tried to lose myself for a while.

After a couple of hours, Shelly came through the door, an almost-forgotten grin on her face, holding her laptop in her hands. “You’ve got to see this!”

I closed the game as she set the laptop on the desk and turned it towards me. I read the title of the webpage she had open: “Couples aged 21—32 needed for fertility study”.

“It fits us to a tee,” she gushed, not even giving me a chance to read the rest of the page, “they are looking for couples just like us, with no male-factor indicators and good hormone levels. They would do a complete work-up, and if nothing came of it then they would do an I.V.F. at no charge! All pre-natal care is included. Plus fifty dollars each per visit.”

We stayed up late that night reading up on the study. It really couldn’t have been more tailor-made to us. We filled out an application and sent it in the next day.

It was kind of funny how dressed up Shelly got for our first meeting with Dr. Poe. It was something like she was going on a first date, and something like a job interview. I heard a funny song once about an unhappy couple who were ostensibly procuring a genetically engineered baby, but in fact the husband seemed to be oblivious to the clues that his wife was having an affair with “Doctor Martin”. I had the damn thing stuck in my head all the way to the office, and I was relieved to find that our provider-to-be was in fact a young lady, Dr. Amanda Poe. She seemed very young, in fact, for a doctor, and if it hadn’t been for the dates on her diplomas I might have wondered if she were an intern.

Introductions were made, and we sat at the Doctor’s desk while she looked over our application, and the charts she’d had forwarded from our original doctor. “You are indeed a perfect fit,” she said with a smile.

“That’s great!” Beamed Shelly.

“Now,” continued Dr. Amanda, “if you’ll fill out this non-disclosure agreement, I’ll tell you more about the study before we continue.”

Once our agreement was filled and copies made, we were provided with some literature and Dr. Amanda started to explain. She was working with a group of researchers who were doing a matrix of end-to-end studies. In the first round they would perform complete medical work-ups and genetic screenings on the patients. Then the doctors would decide the best therapy, which might include one of three experimental treatments: a new drug or one of two new I.V.F. techniques.

We agreed readily, signed the final agreements, and sat down with our daybooks open to make a long series of appointments for the many required screenings.

The first appointments consisted of exhaustive medical histories for both of us. We were sent home with orders to abstain from sex until the next meeting. We were also given guidelines about certain other activities: hot baths, underwear, and diet. It was explained that we were going to provide a wide variety of samples to establish a baseline on several different measures of my sperm, and then any potential treatments would be administered and further assessments made.

At that first appointment, Shelly and I met with Dr. Amanda. After we’d filled out a questionnaire about our week’s diet and activities, the Doctor handed me a glass specimen jar and another questionnaire.

“Right through there, please,” she said. “Today I need you to produce the sample on your own.”

I walked into the indicated room, which was painted in soft, warm colors and bathed in gentle light. It held a small, comfortable-looking bed, a toilet behind a low half-wall, a sink, a television, and a small, bookshelf which was empty but for the top shelf, which was closed under a vertically-folding door. I lifted it slightly and saw that it was filled with pornographic magazines and VHS tapes. I ignored them; it had been a long time since I’d looked at any porn, since Shelly disapproved strongly.

Instead I went ‘a capella’, as it were. I was a little surprised that instead of my old standby fantasies, I found myself wondering what Doctor Amanda looked like under her ever-present lab coat. With so little to go on, my thoughts were vague, but sufficient. I filled the cup with a respectable amount of semen.

The questionnaire asked how long my session had taken, whether the entire sample was in the cup, and whether I had used any of the ‘sexual materials’ provided. I answered truthfully, washed my hands in the sink, and exited the room.

“So now the work begins,” said Doctor Amanda. She took a pipette and withdrew a portion of the sample. Then she re-sealed the rest and passed it to a lab technician who arrived just in time.

“While I perform the visual analysis here,” she said, “they’ll take the rest down the hall and perform a chromosomal assay and an HZF test.”

“HZF?” I inquired, watching self-consciously as she carefully put a drop of my stuff onto a viewing slide.

“Hamster zona-free ovum test. They let your little guys practice on some neutralized hamster eggs.”

“Strange,” I said.

“Yes, but effective. It’s the best way to test the effectiveness of many of our treatments.”

“But Doctor,” asked Shelly, “I thought we already determined that his quality is high.”

“Well, so by all indications is the production of your ovaries. One of the things we’re studying is whether we can super-charge the effectiveness of the sperm and avoid IVF for cases like yours. Sorry to make you sit around,” she said as she peered into the microscope, “but time is of the essence, and I didn’t finish giving Shelly your instructions for the next week.

When she was done she told us what was needed of us: we were to be celibate for another seven days, and then we were to make love at home, collect the semen into an insulated carrier, and deliver it to her within an hour.

“It’s important that ejaculation occurs within the vagina as usual when you’re trying to get pregnant,” she told us, “you may only be able to extract a small amount of semen, and that’s fine. Try flexing your pelvic floor muscles to expel the semen.”

I might have blushed; Dr. Amanda’s clinical talk was turning me on. Waiting that next week was slightly difficult. When we did finally make love, it was in fact pretty good, and holding the cup while Shelly expelled my jizz was as sexy as I’d imagined. But she just had a sour expression on her face.

“Now, the next step,” Dr. Amanda told us an hour later, “is to wait forty-eight hours and then collect another sample in the same way.”

We continued the regimen. The next two samples were collected while making love in the little room in the office. Then I was once again directed to collect on my own in the office for a series of visits. Meanwhile Shelly was having a series of explorations of her own, including the collection of some of her ova.

“Well,” said Dr. Amanda, twelve weeks into the study, “we’ve got the best picture we can get of the each of you, and the prognosis is good. There is some factor preventing Scott’s sperm from reaching Shelly’s viable eggs,” she explained. “So we’re going to give you a treatment which should increase the mobility of the sperm. We’ll take samples to see how the sperm perform. We’ve used this with significant success on mice. But before we allow you to conceive,” she cautioned, “we’ve got to perform more chromosomal analysis on the sperm. So until further notice, vaginal intercourse is strictly off-limits.”

Amanda provided me with the first week’s worth of pills. We all knew that we were in a double-blind study, and the pills could be placebos; Amanda didn’t remind us. I felt invigorated, aroused from the very first day, which led me to suspect that the effect might indeed be all in my head.

I went alone to the first post-treatment appointment. I was once again asked to whip up a sample alone in that little room. The quantity of it was surprisingly large. Usually I would produce enough to barely reach the first line at the bottom of the bottle; this time it was well over the second line: twenty milliliters.

“Well then,” commented Amanda as she peered into the bottle, “have you been doing anything differently? Other than the treatment?”

“No,” I said.

“Interesting.” The technician arrived as usual, but this time Amanda had divided the sample fifty-fifty.

“For this stage of the trial I’m going to be dying some sperm so that we can perform another automated analysis on them in addition to the regular visual,” she said. I watched as she carefully re-divided the sample and treated part of it with the dye. She deposited it into a large, expensive-looking machine and then put some of the remainder under the microscope.

“Wow,” she gasped.

“Hmmm?” I inquired, looking up from the questionnaire.

“Well, technically I shouldn’t tell you, but these sperm are markedly more... energetic.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said excitedly, “we’ll see how they do down the hall.”

Just then the automated machine beeped loudly. “Oh, rats,” she said, turning to it, “this thing has a problem.”

“Maybe they’re too fast for it,” I chuckled, setting the completed forms on her desk and peering over at the machine.

“Well,” she said, “maybe.” She unlatched the loading drawer and slid it open, and there was a sudden, loud popping noise.

“Eww,” she said, and as I looked I could see that the sample had exploded out of the thing, spraying out over her torso.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, stepping towards her to help.

“It’s fine,” she laughed, dabbing at the lab coat with a paper towel, “it’s not your fault. I’m not worried, I’m extremely confident that you’re disease-free, and I’m not shy about a little body fluid.”

I chuckled nervously.

“I’ll clean this up later,” she said, gesturing to the messy machine. “You’ll be alone again next Wednesday,” she explained, “please do refrain from sexual activity as usual.”

“Of course,” I replied. As I watched, she finally began to take off that long white lab coat. She slid it off her shoulders, and I was not disappointed by her body, which was nicely accentuated by the white blouse she wore underneath. I could quite clearly see that she was not wearing a bra over her ample breasts, and I could see a well-tanned midriff before she snugged the top down over her form-fitting jeans. She glanced up and caught my eyes in mid-ogle. I glanced away nervously, but she kept her eyes on me for a long, awkward moment, before taking a very deliberate deep breath.

“See you next week,” she said at last.

“See you,” I said, making my way quickly out of the room.

It was more difficult than ever to wait a whole week. I regretted that I’d only be able to masturbate; I could really have used the more complete release of a proper love-making session. By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was fighting unwanted erections all day.

“Good evening,” greeted Amanda.

“Hello,” I said.

She handed me a specimen jar. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I was beyond ready, and when I was alone and I closed my eyes I could only think of Amanda, splattered with my sample, only this time she was not wearing any clothes at all. It was only a minute before I put another particularly large sample into the jar for her.

“Very good,” she said, peering at it. I tried to focus on the questionnaire while she did her work.

“We found the problem with the machine,” she told me, “there was a short in the centrifuge motor.”

“Ah,” I said, not looking up. I raced through the paperwork. “I’ve got to run,” I said, “see you next week.”

“See you,” she said, not looking up from the microscope.

I walked all the way down to the car before I realized that I had left my keys on the little table in the collection room. I ran back into the building and walked through the open door into Amanda’s office. What I saw was quite curious: Amanda had removed one of her gloves, and was rubbing something between her index finger and her thumb. She lifted it to her nose, and sniffed it. Then, most strangely of all, she tentatively stuck out her tongue and touched her bare finger to the tip, sampling the taste of the substance.

I took a step back, and knocked on the door jamb.

“Oh, come in, come in. Forget something?” Her hand was back by her side again.

“My keys,” I said nervously, making for the little side room.

“Ah,” She replied. “Don’t forget, next Wednesday with Shelly.”

“Right-o,” I said, and I went out the door again. Had I really seen what it seemed I’d seen? Was it my imagination? Was there another explanation?

All I knew was, for the next week I was more aroused than I had ever been in my entire life.

“Scott, please go ahead and wait in the collection room. Shelly will be with you shortly.”

I waited as patiently as I could manage. Were we going to get the go-ahead to have vaginal intercourse? I felt ready to make love twice. It was a couple long minutes before Shelly crept through the door.

“So?” I asked hopefully.

“We still can’t make love,” she sighed.

“Then...” I asked.

“She wants me to give you oral sex.”

“Oh,” I said, brightening.

“I’m not sure why it’s necessary,” she frowned.

“She didn’t say?”

“She said we need to stimulate you, to see what it does to your sperm, but that the chromosomal analysis is not done yet so...”

“Works for me,” I grinned.

“I guess,” Shelly conceded.

“Couldn’t hurt for you to get naked,” I suggested boldly. Shelly sighed and we both undressed. Then I sat back, and she put a pillow down on the tile floor to kneel on while she sucked me off. She’s pretty good at that, really, and she looked really hot down there working on me. Still, though, I found myself imagining Amanda on her knees in front of me, worshiping my cock with mindless abandon, rather than Shelly servicing me with reluctant complacency.

I had to help with the specimen jar, holding it in place while she jerked me, and she watched in mild disgust as I scooped the stray bits into the top. We dressed and cleaned up and delivered the stuff to Dr. Amanda.

“Nice,” she said enthusiastically, which seemed to throw off Amanda. I filled out the questionnaire with practiced ease, and we left the room as Amanda stared into the microscope and grinned.

“She certainly seems to enjoy her work,” said Shelly with a hint of suspicion.

“I suppose,” was my careful reply.

Our next appointment was two days hence. Unfortunately, Shelly called me from her office as she made her way over there. “I’ve got an emergency meeting. I guess you should just go without me.”

“I hope it won’t mess up Doctor Poe’s work.”

“I hope not too,” she said, “but I should hope we’ll be able to try this thing out for real soon enough!”

When I walked in to the office, Amanda was quite animated. “That last sample was just off the charts! It’s more than we ever imagined.”

“That’s great,” I said, “but unfortunately Shelly can’t make it.”

“Oh dear,” she said, “that will skew the entire series.”

“Sorry.”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “you should just masturbate for me. I mean,” she corrected hurriedly, “you should just produce a sample by yourself. It’s more important that the time offsets be equivalent.”

I retreated into the room. I took off my pants and easily found my way into a fantasy. “Masturbate for me,” Amanda was saying in my mind, “give me your sample.”

Just then, I jumped guiltily as I heard the door click open. I made as if to cover myself with my pants as Amanda let herself in.

“I’m sorry, Scott,” she said, her voice cracking, “it’s too important that the series be preserved.”

“What do you mean,” I said, my heart jumping into my throat.

“I need to ensure that you are properly stimulated,” she said, beginning to un-button the lab coat, “for the experiment.”

“Stimulated?” I croaked, torn between the desire to flee from this irrational display and a stubborn refusal of my limbs to move.

“Don’t you find me stimulating?” She asked, letting the coat fall to the floor, strutting forward towards me as she started on her blouse.

“Well, I mean...”

“It’s okay, you can say it. I won’t tell Shelly. I’m doing all of this for the two of you, I want you to have a baby, but first I need to know if your sperm is safe.”

“Safe?”

“Your sperm is quite remarkable,” she said, slipping the blouse open and letting me feast my eyes on her perfectly round, taut breasts with no tan lines. “I’ve studied sperm all my professional life, and I have never seen sperm act like yours. Nobody has. Understanding it could help a lot of people who want children.”

I swallowed hard. This is insane, I wanted to scream. But I didn’t.

“So let me help you,” she said, taking one of the pillows from the bed and dropping it in front of me, just like Shelly had done, “let me help you help me.”

She dropped to her knees, wearing only her ankle-length beige skirt. She pulled the pants from my feeble hands and threw them aside. Then, carefully and confidently, she took my penis in her hand and leaned her open mouth forward.

I was in heaven. As good as Shelly was, I suddenly knew that this was my first time receiving really great oral sex. She sucked me deep, to the base, her lips teasing against my scrotum while my cock slid past her tonsils. I watched, rapt, as she worked me over with super-woman enthusiasm.

“Oh my God,” I grunted, and I couldn’t hold it anymore. She knew the meaning of my words, and reached out for the open specimen cup. She set it over the head of my dick and leaned down, licking my balls firmly as I grunted and she milked me with her hand and I filled the bottle and made a massive mess over my shaft.

“Very nice,” she said, sliding the stuff into the jar. “Your semen has such an interesting consistency,” she said, sliding it between her fingers again, “and the smell...” she inhaled deeply from my crotch. “And... and the taste.” She licked at her fingers, watching me carefully. Then she leaned down and began to lick my trembling cock clean. “The treatment has... mmm... released something in your body,” she said, “some hormone... ummm... which has been raised from trace levels to very high levels. I’m still waiting for the... uh... analysis to come back. I just can’t bear the thought of wasting the stuff,” she said, “the smell of it just makes me so hot.”

No further words were said, no further rationalizations were made. My cock grew hard in her mouth, and then she stood and with little fanfare slid her skirt and her silky panties down over her hips, stepped out of them, and straddled my hips.

She knew just how to get me inside her. She was so wet... wetter than Shelly had ever been. I didn’t have to do a thing, it was so different from the last two years with Shelly that I felt like I’d been starved my whole life. She pressed her breasts to my lips, and I suckled, and her hips never stopped rocking on me. Finally I felt my member extending inside her, felt my scrotum begin to pulsate, felt my semen squirt up and out and overflow her pussy messily into my lap.

She slid off me and laid back and began to finger her sloppy pussy, then tapped frantically against her clitoris. She let out a long croaking moan, pressing her finger deep inside, and then finally she clamped her thighs down on her frothy hand and exhaled deeply, before collapsing, spent.

I watched dumbstruck for a moment before she regained her senses and returned to her feet. She took a small paper cup from next to the sink, put one leg up on the bed and held the cup under her, expelling a dollop of bubbly semen into the cup.

“I’ve got to get a good look at this,” she was saying, peering into the little cup.

She pulled her clothes back on and I just stared, slack-jawed, as she left the room.

I should have told Shelly. I should have called the whole thing off. I should have put two and two together. Of course, it was probably too late. I was extremely nervous as Shelly and I made our way to the office two days later. Shelly had only briefly questioned the early appointment, assuming she meant to make up whatever she’d missed. I dreaded what might be coming.

“You okay?” Shelly asked as I hesitated in the hallway.

“Yeah, just a bit weary.”

“What, aren’t you exited to finally be with me again?”

“Of course,” I said, smiling weakly.

We entered the room and I was somewhat relieved to find that Amanda was at least fully clothed.

“Things are proceeding amazingly well,” she told us, “he could probably impregnate you with a sultry look at this point!”

Shelly beamed. I blushed.

“You two have been cleared for intercourse,” added Amanda.

“Great,” smiled Shelly, squeezing my knee.

“You’re entering your fertile window,” Amanda told Shelly, “so this could be the big day. I still want a sample, but feel free to keep the semen inside your vagina for a while first if you like. There’s not actually much scientific support for it, but some women enjoy the feeling of the semen in their vagina, and that enjoyment might enable the sperm to travel better.”

My cock throbbed.

“Now, Scott, go ahead while I speak to Shelly in private for a moment. Proprietary female secrets,” she said. I wondered, with all the frank discussion of the process at hand, what could be proprietary. I might have paled, but I complied. I sat in the little room for long minutes.

Finally, the door opened and Shelly strutted in. “Here I come, big boy,” she crooned. “Hey,” she said, stopping short, “how come you aren’t naked?”

“Sorry,” I said, pulling my shirt off.

Soon we were naked and embracing, and it was nice. “Blegh, sorry, I can still taste that stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Some kind of supplement that Dr. Amanda gave me. Something about electrolytes.”

My jaw fell, but I didn’t say anything. She kissed me, and I could taste a hint of something familiar. Shelly rocked her hips on my lap, and I was soon hard and ready. I started to flip her over on her back.

“No,” she said, “Doctor Amanda says I should be on top.” She shifted, and with a little squirming let me inside her. My eyes must have betrayed me. “She also told me I’d be extra wet today,” she said, “I wonder how she knew?” It was indeed true. She is almost as wet as... I forced the thought from my mind.

She bounced over me, and it was very nice, but the guilt I was feeling had desensitized me. She lifted my hands to her bouncing breasts. “My nipples are very sensitive today. Doctor Amanda told me that too. Oh, yeah, it’s true too. She told me I might have an orgasm from you pulling my nipples, but I’m not sure I believe that. Hey,” she said in response, “I didn’t mean for you to stop. I just meant... oh... I just meant that I’m... ah... somewhat skeptical... of whether... her little serum... ah... yeah... will really make me more sexy to you... ah... but if I really was feeling as sexy as she told me I would be, then, mmm... I’d surely have an orgasm, ah... probably... mmmm.. probably... right about... ahhh... now...”

My eyes bugged out. We’d never even had a conversation about her orgasms before, although I was certain she had them from time to time. But this was completely new, completely uncharacteristic of her, the way she was grinding her pelvis against me, shoving her tits against my face.

“That was nice. Doctor Amanda is always right, isn’t she?” She slid off me and my engorged cock slapped against my thigh. “She says you should fuck me from behind now, I’m bound to get pregnant then.”

She leaned down over the bed. I didn’t need to be asked twice. My conscious mind faded away as I fucked her like an animal. I filled her with a huge gob of baby batter, and watched idly as she squeezed some of it into the little glass jar.

The next week was stellar. We’d been given the all clear to make love as much as every twenty-four hours. Shelly timed it down to the minute. I had her in every position I could imagine, in every room of the house, and put what had to be gallons of semen into her. I couldn’t imagine her not being pregnant, but when we had our next visit with Doctor Amanda, that’s what she told us.

She studied a chart intently while we sat and waited. “Scott,” she said, “it’s time for more girl talk.”

What was Amanda going to say this time? It was only a couple of minutes before the door swung open and Shelly walked in. But to my surprise, behind her was Amanda.

“Sweetie,” said Shelly, licking her lips, “Doctor Amanda says that maybe I’m not pregnant because I’m not having strong enough orgasms. She’s going to watch us make love so she can give us some advice.”

All I could manage was a dumb nod. Shelly undressed, and then, as I was still clothed, came forward and undressed me too. She stared intently at what she was doing, focused completely on her task.

“Your sperm is really amazing,” said Amanda into the silence, “we’re really very close to getting you that baby. But if I can understand what it is that is working so well, I really can help a lot of people. Nobody else in the study is responding like you are, Scott.”

“So what first, Doctor Amanda?” Asked Shelly brightly.

“Start with oral sex, of course, as usual.”

“Um,” said Shelly, abashed, “we don’t usually.”

“Well, there’s one thing to change,” said Amanda. “You should always tease him to hardness with your mouth. Your goal is to make him as aroused as possible, so his sperm is very strong. Yes, that’s good, I’m sure he likes it very wet like that. That’s the supplement working, making you salivate. Ah, good, good. Now, the key here is we want to get him hard, but we don’t want to start his clock ticking yet. Wait, wait,” she said, “why aren’t you masturbating?”

“Masturbating?” mumbled Shelly around my cock.

“Yes, you should be readying yourself for him.”

“I don’t usually...”

“Yes, I suppose you said that on your history. Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Let him have a little break and we’ll watch you masturbate.”

Nervously, Shelly slid in next to me on the bed and parted her legs. She began to timidly touch herself.

“My goodness,” Amanda accused, “you lied on your history, didn’t you?”

Shelly dropped her eyes and nodded.

“Well, here,” Amanda said, stepping forward. “First of all you’ve got to tease around this way. Yes, there you go. Every woman is a little different, and you have to know yourself to have great orgasms, and you for one have to have great orgasms if you want to have a baby. Good, now once you start to moisten up a little bit, then slide a finger in between there... perfect. Now slide back up and moisten your clitoral hood. Now dip back down... there you are... now feel around, find a spot you like... no, try on the top. Isn’t there some place you like to feel his dick?”

“Yes, of course, I just never noticed exactly where it is,” murmured Shelly apologetically.

“Well, here, allow me,” said Amanda, leaning in closer between Shelly’s legs and moistening a finger between her own bright red lips. “I’ll find it, I’m very good at this.” She began to probe into Shelly. “I’ve been with so many really sexy girls. You’re a sexy girl, aren’t you, Shelly?”

Shelly, eyes closed, just nodded. I stared on, my jaw limp at its lowest extent.

“I know you’re in there somewhere. I’m very patient,” continued Amanda.

Right then, Shelly gasped. “There you go! Well, now you know, but while I’m down here...”

Still wearing the white lab coat and a pair of back slacks, Amanda leaned forwards and licked at Shelly’s clitoris. Shelly gasped.

“Oh, I bet your husband is just loving this,” purred Amanda against Shelly’s leg, “this is a special kind of treatment I save for the hottest young mothers, the ones who really deserve to get a baby from their stud.”

Shelly looked up at me briefly before her eyes closed again.

“Poor Scott, though, he’s all left out. Scott, why don’t you feed that amazing penis of yours to your baby mama here.”

Numbly I complied. I’d been so caught up I was growing limp again, but Shelly eagerly inflated me again.

“You’re going to come soon, Shelly, and then he will be all ready to fuck you.”

“Ah,” replied Shelly, barely comprehending.

“There you go, feel him filling your mouth, he’ll be filling your hot little vagina soon. Just as soon as you come for me. Show me how you squeeze my finger. Show me how you will suck his sperm right down inside you.”

Shelly spat out my cock, started to pant, and then bucked her hips, but Amanda held her firmly in place, and Shelly moaned loudly in her first orgasm. I sat back on my ankles and watched.

“Now, Scott,” commanded Amanda, moving back out of the way, “now you need to get that thick, manly cock inside this hot little wife of yours. There you go, I got her nice and wet for you, do you like it? Do you like how she feels all wet from coming? Do you feel her pussy throbbing? She’s going to come again, Scott, she’s going to come from your fucking, and when she does you’re going to send in a billion little warriors, and one of them is going to become your child. Lift up her knees a bit. There you go. Your cock must be reaching into her now, it must be straining longer than ever because it knows how important this job is. It’s reaching into her depths, it’s probably pointed right at her cervix, ready to paint her little womb a nice shade of white. You’re fucking her so good, she’s about ready to come, aren’t you, Shelly? Come for your man., show him how much you want his baby in you, show him your body is ready!”

Shelly’s pussy started to jerk around me. “Get inside her, " Amanda urged, pushing on the small of my back, “all the way.”

Shelly’s body urged me on, and I came, and it felt like the entire contents of my scrotum were being injected into her. I was out of my skull, my pelvis pressed hard against Shelly, and my ears rang with the music of Shelly’s groans.

Eventually I fell down next to Shelly. She placed my hand over her belly. “I think that did it,” she whispered hoarsely. I laughed, and she laughed, and then we both wept tears of joy as Amanda quietly left the room.