The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“No. Absolutely not.”

Dave was stunned. “But this has the potential to…”

“It has the potential to go wrong in any one of at least three ways that I can think of. Most likely, it would not work at all; alternatively, it could do serious medical harm. The risks are enormous and our ability to control or to test it would be very limited.”

Professor Gray rolled her eyes at him, and then fixed him with a glare over the rims of her glasses. “Thirdly, if it ‘worked’ in humans the way it seems to have done in the mice in your trials, it could radically alter human society. The effects you have already told me about are enormous. Both the medical effects and the psychological, social, cultural ones. Enormous, untestable, and therefore unpredictable and uncontrollable. To say nothing of what would happen if it fell into the—” she grimaced slightly at the expression, “— wrong hands. And given the nature of the results you think you’ve found, some of those hands would be extremely keen to get their hands all over it. No-one in their right minds would allow this to be developed. Nobody would be willing to take the risk. Even if I gave you the green light it wouldn’t get beyond the faculty stage before it was shut down, let alone the University. The fucking government would stop it. In a flash.”

“The students who have been working on this with us—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the students at this point!” Dave had rarely seen her so angry. “Our careers would be stopped, we will be laughing stocks, the department will be ruined, and, having had this conversation, been cognisant of these risks, and decided to go ahead, we would almost certainly both, or all—everybody involved—go to prison. For a long time. All for nothing, because it would never be allowed to get off the ground. Dave, this is a fantasy. It is not going to happen.”

“But the benefits—”

“Not going to happen.”

“Sarah—”

“Not going to happen.”

“We have the possibility here to do something of enormous benefit to the human species. This is why we became academics.”

“Or enormous harm. This is not going to happen.”

“This could end all disease. And possibly all war.”

“Or more likely, all of our careers. God knows, God knows the unforeseen effects it could have. It could end the human species. Look, I’m not discussing this any more. I’m not going to see the reputations, and careers, and lives of people I care about and am responsible for put at risk of total destruction. This stops now.”

“What do we tell the funders?”

“Given that you weren’t even looking for what you, again, think you’ve found, this is just another experimental drug that didn’t work out. I’d much rather take the flak for that than for the ensuing clusterfuck if you actually tried to publish on any of this. Let it run until the end of term, and then tell the students that the project has been completed, we’ve learned what we needed to, and it’s over. And then delete the files. Burn the papers. Destroy the samples and the equipment. If I hear a whisper that any work on this project has continued, or existed, beyond this point you will be up before an ethics committee before you know what has happened.”

“Ethics committee I’m not worried about. We can infect them too, they’ll be with the program before they know what’s hit them.”

Sarah Gray laughed at what she hoped was a joke. “That’s a lot of fucking around you’re talking about.”

“We have a lot of very hot students in this department.” He gave a sigh that was part chuckle and part shrug. “OK. Look. I’ll can it. Of course you’re right. I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed, but I’ll shut it down.”

Of course she was right. She usually was. He’d known this ever since he was an undergrad and she was his tutor when she was still studying for her PhD, a decade or more ago. He’d known, in his heart, when the more—interesting—results started to come in, how it would play out when he reported them. So he canned the project. The students were, as he predicted, disappointed, some furious. He relayed the arguments Sarah had put to him, took the brunt of that disappointment, and, over the following months, got them excited about something else. Nothing could possibly have been as exciting as this project, but he moved them on somehow. His colleague, Tim, in the physics department did the same. The summer came, the year ended, some of the students who’d worked on the project graduated and left, and most people forgot about it all.

Dave didn’t delete the files though. Of course he couldn’t. This was potentially the most glorious thing he could ever have achieved. He destroyed the most of the samples, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the equipment. Everything he saved went into crates in a forgotten room in one of the University’s forsaken basements. The project stopped.

That all changed when Jenny Ackroyd was diagnosed with cancer.

Jenny Ackroyd was a sweet girl, one of the research MSc students who had been involved with running the animal trials. Everybody liked Jenny. She was kind, and loving, and committed, and generous, and also ferociously clever and very strong.

Jenny had been raised as a Jehovah’s Witness. When she reached sixteen, she was expected, as was the norm for Witnesses, to leave school and work full-time spreading the message of God. She didn’t want to. She had always been one of the top students in her class, and knew that she could do more service to humanity by studying, developing her skills, working to find cures for disease. She had begun to question the tenets of her faith, and this led to a series of blazing rows, at the end of which she was cut off from her family, and had to move out, find a room in a flat in a shitty part of town, and work to fund herself through the rest of high school, and University. It had taken her longer to reach the end of her first degree than most of her colleagues, because she could only study part-time, and she had to take time out to earn money. But by the time she did finish, the University was very willing to find funding to keep her on.

This was in part because of her undoubted ability and drive, but also because she was a lovely person to have around. She was the kind of girl that other girls described as having “a really pretty face”, which meant she was a bit chubby—pretty enough, sure, but not hot enough to make the other girls resent her. She never had boyfriends, in part because of the demands on her time from work and study, in part because she appeared painfully shy around men, and in part because she still retained some vestige of her faith.

What she hadn’t told anyone was that, over the last year or so, her health had deteriorated; it had taken a while for her doctors to get to the bottom of it, but when they did, it was shocking. She had developed a form of cancer which, during the time it had remained undetected, had progressed to the stage where it was beyond effective treatment. By the time they had diagnosed her, she had months to live.

Which is how she came to be in tears, on a bench in a park on campus, in the August sunshine, struggling to speak to her supervisor, Dr David Armstrong.

“The thing is, Dave,” she said, between sobs, with a surprising degree of composure, “I know what the project could have produced.”

She stopped there, leaving the implication to hang. Of course, he caught it.

“You know what else it did,” Dave replied, gently, still shocked, not only by the content of what she had told him, but also by the courage it must have taken for her to tell him, and her calmness, despite the obvious distress it was causing her. Of course she knew what the project could have produced, and in fact what it had produced in the trials—what it had, in fact, been intended to produce. It had been intended as a treatment to help people in very much the situation Jenny, tragically, had found herself in. The problem was that it had done so much more beyond what had been hoped.

She just nodded.

“And you know what happened to the mice when the emitter was switched off.” Of course she did. She, herself, had documented and reported it to him.

“Yes: after a while some of the effects faded, some remained permanent. Subjects who had only had a short period of exposure returned almost to normal, but those who had had a long exposure, in the most part, experienced withdrawal, exhibited symptoms of depression, and in many cases, just died. But the diseases never came back.”

“So it really, if it were ever to be used in humans, would quite possibly have to be regarded as a permanent treatment. Although we have no idea what it would actually do in humans. Which,” he added with a shrug, “Were two of the many valid reasons Sarah had for instructing me to delete all the files.”

“Yes. But I know you would have found it very hard to do that, and it would surprise me if you had done so. And anyway, it’s by no means guaranteed,” she added, expressing herself carefully, “That all of the students involved in the project deleted all of their copies of the data.”

The girl never ceased to impress him. “In any case,” he told her, “We no longer have the emitter. Or any stocks of the drug.”

“Again,” she said, “It would surprise me if that were true. Oh, the drug, sure, but we—I—someone—could make those up again, if the formula still existed. It would be harder to recreate the machine, albeit not impossible, but—in fact so—I can imagine it might have just been hidden somewhere. It’s too valuable a thing to destroy. Or, I could always have this conversation again, with Physics.”

“Christ,” Dave answered, off-guard. “It’s bad enough that you have had to have this conversation once.”

“So you have got it somewhere?” she responded.

He paused, unsure of how to reply. “The Department will not permit this project to be restarted.”

“I agree. I don’t think Sarah could possibly allow it. In many ways she’d be right not to.” Jenny took a breath, looked him straight in the eyes and told him, “But this is a matter of life and death for me.”

A few seconds dragged by before Dave said, “What are you proposing?”

“I don’t see,” she said, “How, if a student who had been involved in the project somehow had found, or made, a version of the machine, and acting on their own, created the drug, took it, and activated it, it could possibly rebound on anyone other than that student.”

“Look Jenny, if you were to go ahead with this, and the shit hit the fan, given what’s brought you to this situation, there’s no fucking way I’d let you hang for it on your own. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Good idea hardly comes into it. It’s the only option I have, other than just dying.”

Dave winced and looked away. “And again, you know what it did to the mice? And you’re willing to take that risk on yourself? Including the risk that it could be permanent?”

A dirty grin broke through her fragility. “Yes I know. They got fitter and stronger. Excess body fat turned to muscle or just burned off. They appeared not to age, and in the cases of older subjects seemed to regress to young adulthood. All their diseases, including ones we infected them with, cleared up, and they became invulnerable to new infections. As their reserves refilled and their systems more healthy and resilient, they became less aggressive, more willing to share, happier. They became cleverer. And they became hornier. Much, much hornier. They fucked all the time, those little dirty bastards. And Dave, it may shock you to hear this, but when I was still running the experiments, before I got this news of course, that turned me on like you wouldn’t believe: the idea of doing those changes to human beings, to myself. The idea that something so good, so beneficial could also be so fucking sexy. It helped me to—” at this point she even blushed a little; she couldn’t quite believe she was going to say it, but in for a penny: “I masturbated over the idea. I had already decided that I would volunteer for the first batch of human trials if we got that far. Then,” she added, “The project was cancelled. Which I understood, although I was disappointed. But this ups the ante.”

It seemed so incongruous: it really was a beautiful day, at the end of a summer which had been far nicer than usual. Other students were passing by, on the other side of the railings; there were birds, and a little breeze.

Apart from raising his eyebrows, Dave didn’t respond directly. Instead, he said, “And you understand that this seems to be sexually transmissible? I mean you understand what the consequences could be if it got into the population?”

“Well. I’ve never had sex before. I’m not naïve enough to believe that that won’t change, given the effects of the treatment. But I am aware enough to use condoms, if I were to… you know. I am a careful person. And besides, it only becomes active when triggered by the emitter. I would be the only person having any kind of exposure to that.”

“Jenny. As I say, we have no idea what this will do in humans. And you understand that if you start, the odds are that you may well need to, or want to, continue, forever.”

“Yes. But what’s the alternative? I can feel myself getting weaker. I haven’t been able to go for a run for weeks.”

Dave looked at his hands. They were trembling. After the shock and the sadness of Jenny’s revelation, he couldn’t have denied that he felt a sense of excitement. “What—what do you want to happen?”

“I want you to show me where the machine is. I want you to help me use it. I mean,” she added, hastily, “I could do it all on my own. But I don’t want to. I want you to help me, to keep an eye on me. To document it—me. If it works, we’ll get the data to show that it works. It could end up helping thousands of people, tens of thousands. If it doesn’t,”—she shrugged. “I’m sick anyway.”

“Jenny—” He didn’t know what to say. “Jenny: are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about it a lot. What have I got to lose?”

“There are other treatments, you know.”

“Yes. But none of them can help me. They’ve told me that. And I believe in the project.” She paused. “I don’t want to involve anyone else. Just yet. If we can avoid it.”

“Your doctors will pick up the changes.”

“I’ll stop seeing them. I’ll drop off their radar.”

“This is a massive gamble you’re talking about.”

“It isn’t. There’s nothing to lose. And I want to do it. If I don’t, my time is limited anyway. I want to make a contribution while I can.”

She let that rest in the air. He looked at her, then away. “I—I need to think about it. I should talk to Sarah.”

“I understand why you want to. I’d rather you didn’t, but you can have my permission to tell her about my condition; do you not think she’ll just say no?”

“I think she’s a compassionate person. I think what you have told me changes the game somewhat. I don’t know; I’ll tread carefully. Meet me in a couple of days.”

He did mention Jenny’s condition to Sarah, and how it had come about. Late at night, the next day, when they had been out drinking, she asked him why he had seemed subdued all night.

Like Dave, Sarah was shocked and appalled. Like Dave, she liked Jenny a lot; the sadness of the situation was distressing. And of course, she knew that Jenny had worked on the project. Sarah got to the end of the train of thought before Dave had to lead her.

“She wants to try it, doesn’t she?”

Dave did not answer.

“This is enormous, Dave,” Sarah continued. “The risks are—enormous. For her more than anyone. In her situation I can’t condemn her for wanting to take them.”

He still didn’t answer. His head was spinning a little, from the booze.

“Did you destroy everything?”

“She raised the observation that there’s no way we could be sure that all the students involved had deleted all the files.”

“And she is very thorough. And the emitter?”

Dave looked at her, guiltily. “I couldn’t bring myself to. It’s locked away, hidden.”

“This is exactly why I told you to destroy it. If the machine didn’t exist, this wouldn’t even be a possibility.”

“She suggested that she could go and tell Physics, Tim, I guess, what she told me. And of course, they had a team of students working on this too.”

“Jesus. And we can’t put her in the position of having to trawl round all of them until somebody agrees to help her. Worst of all one of the students who might not really know what they were doing. Shit.” Sarah shook her head. “She’ll do it anyway, won’t she?”

Dave grimaced.

“So it’s better that she has someone keeping an eye on her. Dave,” Sarah continued. “We’re going to regret this. Fuck knows how it will play out. But I can’t stop you. And you can’t stop her.”

“Is there a way we can do it on the books?”

“I think it’s better we just let it happen, at first. See what happens. Do it now, we’ve got a few weeks before classes start up again so the labs are empty. Do you actually still have stocks of the drug?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re a dickhead, you know. OK. She finds the stocks and the machine and knows what they are because she worked on it. Let’s say I only told you to put it in deep store. Officially she just does it on her own, and if it actually does anything, at that point she tells you what she’s done. Given everything she has just found out, it can be argued that she is not fully responsible for her actions. Is she with the University medical practice?”

“I assume so.”

“So we get one of the medical school doctors who works with us on trials to take over as her GP if we need to. In fact, we should do that anyway, so that we can get her current test results, to give us a baseline to track against. For your own use, off the books, get some tests in advance. And you’d better get on with it while the lab is empty, before the students come back in a few weeks. But Dave. For God’s sake look after her. Poor girl. She’s had enough crap to deal with already.”

The next few days were agonising for Jenny. After Dave called her back and said that he would help, and that Sarah had agreed to it—that was a surprise—she was overwhelmed with emotion: hope, to an extent she hadn’t felt since her diagnosis, and also arousal. The scientist in her noted that even if the treatment had the same effect on her libido as it seemed to with the mice, it would be hard to separate that from the placebo effect. Just the idea of being constantly, massively and uncontrollably horny was making her constantly, massively and uncontrollably horny.

As Sarah had observed, it would benefit them to get the process underway while most of the students—the undergrads at least—were still away for the summer. This way they would have the run of the labs, and would be less likely to get found out. So they decided to make a start that weekend.

In the intervening days the anticipation had a serious effect on her. She masturbated frequently, even dashing into the toilets several times while she was working in the library. Then, as she made her way back to her desk, she was still turned on; she wondered whether the other students in the library could see her nipples or smell her arousal. A part of her liked the idea. She imagined herself standing at the front of a class, giving a seminar. She did that regularly, alongside her studying, and it didn’t really make her nervous any more. But now, she was imagining how she would feel if—like the mice—she had become much more horny. She imagined the students looking at her, seeing her nipples poking through her top. She wondered whether the treatment would make her try to fuck any of them.

That brought her crashing down again. She had never had a particular hangup about her looks, but she knew she wasn’t stunning, and she had never been aware of guys falling over themselves to get to her. Oh well: maybe it would inspire her to hit the gym, too. Maybe it would enable her to hit the gym. She wasn’t physically well enough to go, recently. That minor intrusion of practical reality soon gave way to fantasy again: to the—by now agnostic, but still in there, somewhere—Protestant in her, the sexiest thing about it was that she wouldn’t be responsible. She had been forced into this through no fault of her own, and if—if—the treatment had the effect on her libido that she secretly hoped it would, she wouldn’t be completely responsible for her sexual desires and behaviour either.

Even before anything chemical or biological happened, her mind started to do the work. She found herself appraising her body in the mirror, thinking of herself as a sexual being.

Dave, also, started to think of her in that light. He had never done so before; like most men she encountered, he had found her pretty without being attracted to her; but the knowledge that she would, possibly, become irresistibly aroused with no other outlet but him, couldn’t have failed to insert her into his fantasies.

So there they were, ready to go. In a basement room, off a corridor. With the syringe poised at her arm. They had decided to start with a small dose, and build up from there.

Dave looked her in the eyes, and waited. She nodded. He pushed it in, and slowly, smoothly, pushed the plunger.

They watched each other’s eyes. Dave looked down, slowly drew it out and taped a cotton-wool pad over the wound. Then met her gaze again. She seem to feel Dave’s pulse crossing with her own, through his hand, which remained on his arm. One or both of them was sweating: his skin felt warm and lightly slick on hers.

And... Nothing. At first. Then a prick growing to a spot—what felt like a big zit or a bite inside her arm, where the needle’s tip had reached. Maybe her mind was playing tricks, but she seemed to feel a coldness—or maybe a prickly warmth—a presence, anyway—grow out from that spot, up and down her arm.

Dave felt it as well: her arm felt heavier for a moment. He felt the moistness of their skin, and the strange, fizzing, hot-cold sensation; he knew it was her body responding, but he almost seemed to feel it in his hands, too, as the spread of the serum reached where their skin met.

She gasped slightly, and her eyes defocused and then snapped back as it reached her elbow and her fingertips. Jenny was consciously, distinctly aware as it travelled up her arm to her shoulder, and then started to spread through her chest, into her neck and thrift at the same time as it moved through both breasts. She felt a distinct sensation as it reached each nipple, first one then the other. She drew breath, sharply; her face relaxed for a second as the wave passed through her jaw and her cheeks, reaching down her abdomen.

It hit her mind and her pussy at the same time: a sensation like a pressure and a stimulation and an intoxication all at once; she shifted in her seat, conscious of the seam of her jeans against her clit, and a growing tension as the sensation passed through her legs and her other arm.

“Are you OK?” Dave asked, still supporting her arm with one hand, with his other hand, still holding the syringe between his fingers, resting on top; his attention now totally focussed on her.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s like I’m being… charged up.” She thought back to the mice, through the fog of arousal building in her mind. “I think we need to hit the emitter.”

“Sure?”

“Do it.”

He put down the syringe, reached over, put his finger on the button, made eye contact again, and pushed it, and took her hand again. The machine fired up with a whir, then a buzz, then a crack.

Her head dropped back; her eyes opened wide and then closed as a burst of release surged through her body. She let out a moan, then convulsed as an orgasm hit her, first one, then another and another all wrapped up in each other. A lifetime of frustration flowed through her and erupted. “Ahhh!” she cried, followed by “Yes!” and “Fuck!” Her head snapped up and she locked her eyes on Dave’s as waves of pleasure rolled through her, shaking her; he stayed with her, transfixed, as his own arousal flowered. “Oh! Oh this is good.” Her free hand unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down, slipped inside her panties, her fingers diving inside her soaking cunt. “Oh fuck! Dave. Fuck me. Fuck me Dave. Please fuck me Dave.”

The erotcism of the moment was intense. Still holding her arm with one hand, almost on autopilot he ran the other up to her shoulder. She grabbed his wrist with her wet hand, and pulled his down to her crotch. He slipped it into her underwear, and slid two fingers into her gushing vagina. She gripped his wrist, pulling him into her, her body spasming as her pussy clenched and unclenched on his fingers. She shrieked, frigging herself with his hand, humping him as she blossomed into a shattering orgasm. Her legs wrapped around his arm as she moaned, “Oh yes, oh yes,” over and over again.

And then, as quickly as it had come on, it passed. She fell back into the chair, panting.

“Are you OK? Do you feel OK?” Dave asked.

For a moment she didn’t answer, regaining her breath.

“Do you feel different?” he persisted.

“Well,” she said, “I have your hand in my pussy, and that hasn’t happened before.”

He smiled, and gently slipped it out, and sat back, still holding her arm with his other hand.

“I suspect this is the emotion of the moment talking,” she told him, “But I fucking love you Dave.”

He laughed gently, and she joined him.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… pretty scrambled.” She grinned. “I feel good. I feel like I needed that.” She opened her eyes again. “Actually I feel really good. I’m still horny,” she added.

So was Dave, but despite the massive boner he had in his pants, he wanted to retain some degree of propriety. “I, er, I don’t think it would be appropriate to take advantage of you.”

“Ha! You weren’t saying that when you were knuckle-deep in me a minute ago.”

He laughed, and blushed. “You looked like you needed it.”

“I did. That was more me taking advantage of you.”

“Look. I’ll get you home, lets see how you are in the morning. I don’t think it would be right to fuck you. I mean, it’s not usual practice in scientific trials…”

She laughed this time. “OK. I’m OK I think. I’ll take care of it myself when you get me home.”

He pulled up outside her apartment.

“So… call me if you feel any sudden changes, or if you need anything.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Well… more or less anything.”

She laughed, and got out of the car.

He watched her as she walked to the building. His cock throbbed; it was going to get some serious attention when he got home. He’d never been attracted to her before, but there was something special in her step now, he thought; an extra swing to her hips—which struck him as enticingly round, her ass juicy and plump. Once she got the door open, she looked back over her shoulder at him, gave him a smile and a wave which was almost coquettish, and slipped inside.

The door closed, and he sat there for a moment, the car idling. She had seemed a little high, almost, but definitely the same person. He shook his head: what did he expect, one shot and a complete, instant transformation? Well, they were on the rollercoaster now, there wasn’t much they could do about it now other than wait and see what happened.

He drove home. His apartment felt empty, emptier than usual. Dave lived alone—he had moved here when he broke up with his ex, and it had become a bit of a man-cave. His recently acquired tenure demanded most of his time, and the problem, he had often reflected, with teaching in a university was that although one was surrounded by beautiful fruit, it was all forbidden. Not to say that many of the peaches wouldn’t have willingly given their flesh up to him—he often caught, or thought he caught, that look of admiration and even flirtation in their eyes, but it would have been so easy to throw it all away with one indiscretion: not only his career, but also his ethics, his self-esteem. It didn’t help that he also fancied the shit out of his boss, but Sarah had always been the model of professionalism; and besides, she was married, to the guy she’d met when they’d been undergrads. He’d fancied Sarah since he was in his first year and she was taking his seminars. But she had never shown the least bit of interest, and indeed, he thought, had hardly known who he was for the first couple of years. And, Dave knew, even once he had (mostly) graduated from the “pupil” box he had only made it into the “friend” box.

None of that was on Dave’s mind, at first, though, when he tore into the flat. His erection was almost painful; he threw off his pants and opened up his laptop, hit a porn site, and loaded a video. His cock was rock-hard, the head taut and shining.

As hot as he was, though, nothing got him off. He went through coed porn, gangbang porn, reverse gangbang porn, swinger porn, porn stars and amateurs, everything. He thought of Sarah as a dominatrix, in black PVC—not for the first time. His mind drifted to the image of Jenny, in her room, strumming herself to ecstasy, and that partially did it for him. But even though he shot his load, fiercely, the erection didn’t subside; he carried on, to the point where he was almost stoned with arousal. He fell asleep sometime in the middle of the night, still hard, to a succession of vivid, erotic dreams.

When he awoke, greasy with sweat, it was apparent from the sheets that those dreams had had effects on him, at least once, maybe several times. At least his erection had subsided to a semi, although it did give a lurch when he remembered he’d told Sarah he’d stop by her place, to report in on the way over to meet Jenny.

She opened the door in tight fit jeans and a t-shirt which did little to hide her pert breasts; Dave tried not to notice them as she ushered him past her into the kitchen. Over a cup of tea he relayed the story of last night, omitting the part where he used his fingers on Jenny, but giving her everything else. He could have sworn that Sarah flushed ever so slightly as he described the orgasm that hit Jenny when he’d switched the emitter on; she didn’t say anything, but raised an eyebrow, and it seemed to Dave that her nipples were visible through the fabric at that point.

He finished at the point where he dropped her off.

“So, she hasn’t called me. I texted her this morning, “—right after he changed the sheets—” and she said she was OK; I’m going to go over now and take her blood pressure, temperature, take a blood sample, and just chat to her, see how she is.”

“How about you?” Sarah asked. “This must be… exciting?”

Exciting was right; even thinking about it, he noticed his hands feeling clammy. How about me? he thought. I wanked like crazy all night until I passed out? “Yeah… I didn’t think I’d get to see this project go any further, and it’s the biggest thing I’ve ever been involved with, so yeah, it is exciting.”

Sarah’s eyes seemed to say, and the rest, but her mouth said, “Are you going to be able to retain a degree of objectivity?”

“It’s hard, but I’ll do my best. I just hope that it works. For her sake,” he added.

“OK, well, keep me posted.”

“Sure.” Dave had finished his tea, and as he rose to leave, he noticed that Sarah had hardly touched hers. Her nipples, he noted with a glance that he hoped she didn’t spot, were definitely hard. She showed him out, and after the door closed, through its glass panes, Dave saw her heading up the stairs.

Jenny’s front door was opened by her a beautiful, slim blonde girl. “Oh, hi, you must be Dave,” she greeted him. “Come inside.” As he passed her she said, “Jenny’s just in the shower, but she told me you’d be over. I’m her housemate, Victoria. Most people,” she added, with a hint of flirtation, “Call me Vicky.”

“Hi,” said Dave. He followed her into the kitchen, and as he did so, couldn’t fail to notice her incredible butt, encased in yoga pants. He was thankful that she headed straight for the kettle, as it gave him the chance to slip into a chair, hiding his bulge, which was returning with a vengeance.

“Brew, professor?” she asked.

“Erm, yes, thanks,” he said. “But I’m not quite a professor yet. Just Dave is fine.”

“Whatever you like, professor,” she replied. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to leave you; I’m heading over to my boyfriend’s. I don’t think Jenny will be long. She got back from her run a little while ago, she’s not usually long in the bathroom.” She poured his tea, and then stepped out into the hallway. “Jen!” Dave heard her shout; “Your lecturer is here; I’m going round to Rob’s.” With that, she popped back into the kitchen to pick up her car keys, and swept out of the flat, leaving Dave wondering, what is it with the pointy nipples this morning?

Jenny was, at that moment, scrutinising her body in the mirror. She couldn’t tell, couldn’t be certain, but… she shook her head. Don’t be silly, she told herself, and threw on her bathrobe. One thing was for sure: she was still horny.

She was flushed, too. Whether it was from the shower or from perspiration, he silk robe clung to her skin.

They sat side by side on the sofa, as he took her temperature. From this angle, every time she moved he caught a glimpse of a cleavage he hadn’t noticed before; mind you, she’d never worn a robe to the lab.

“How long ago did you get back from your run?” Dave asked

“About half an hour or so, now?” she guessed.

“I take it you’re not feeling too ill, then.”

“Far from it. I feel great. I haven’t felt this good in months. I pretty much had to go for a run, I had energy to burn. And…” she hesitated, with a hint of embarrassment, “I have been feeling so fucking turned on, I was hoping it might help me think about something else.”

He looked up from the thermometer, and smiled at her. “Did it?”

“No.”

“Your temperature is high. You don’t feel feverish at all?”

“No, like I said, I feel great.”

“Hmm.” He wrote down the figure, and opened the stopwatch on his phone. “I’ll take your blood pressure next.” He held her hand in his, and with his other hand found the pulse in her wrist. He knew she was aroused; he could almost feel it coming off her. He counted for thirty seconds, aware of his own arousal building in the silence; the contact with her skin seemed almost electric. “High blood pressure, too.”

“Just like the mice, then.”

“I’ll take a blood sample, to check out in the lab.”

“Already done it,” she said. “It’s in the fridge.”

“In the fridge?”

“Vicky knows I’m doing some experiment or other; I didn’t tell her any more than that, but I wanted to give her something to explain things.”

“OK. Anything else to report?”

“Well… only… look. You know I was feeling horny when you dropped me off. And you know I still am now. It didn’t go away at all. When I got home Vicky was watching TV, so I had to pretend I could keep my head out of my underwear and have a respectable conversation until it was late enough to legitimately go to bed; but when I did I, uh, made my own entertainment pretty much all night long, and it hardly helped at all.”

She paused, and then continued: “We had a few drinks last night, and what with the state I was in and all… got to talking about sex. By the end of the night she was as turned on as I was. I’m pretty sure that was a booty call her boyfriend got this morning. I’ll tell you something else too. I’m pretty sure she thinks I fancy you.” Jenny leaned in. “She’s not wrong. Look,” she said, “I know you’re almost as aroused by this situation as I am. And you’ve only just been able to keep your eyes off my tits all morning. Dave,” she stated, overriding his protest. “What you did with your fingers last night was very nice, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long chalk. I need to get fucked, properly, for the first time in my life. By you. Now.” She held up her left hand, revealing a condom she had had in her palm all along, and then theatrically let it unfold into a strip of six.

I think I’ve just fallen in love, thought Dave. His penis certainly agreed.

“Vicky won’t be back for most of the day, and you don’t need to get that blood to the lab in a hurry, do you? Do you?” she teased.

In answer, Dave reached across to the back of her head, pulled it in, and kissed her hard. With his other hand he slipped the robe off her shoulder, and cupped a breast, gently brushing his thumb across her nipple. She ran her trembling hands across his arm and his chest, and down to his lap, where she started to fumble with his belt.

He stood, and with the hand entangled in her hair, he pulled her to her feet. She shrugged, and the robe came away. He unfastened the belt, unbuttoned his fly and dropped his jeans; pushed her to her knees. For a moment, she stared at the bulge straining against his briefs, then he pushed them down and his cock burst out, hitting her in the face.

“Wow,” she said. This was the first cock she’d ever seen in the flesh. “Are they all this big?”

Dave looked down at it; it did look big. He knew it was slightly larger than average, no more, but right now it was proud and hungry and absolutely solid, the head purple and taut. Harder than he could remember. A bead of moisture glistened at the tip.

She reached up, and touched it; instantly it twitched. She recoiled slightly, then grasped it, and with the other hand caressed his balls. She began to stroke it; he said, “Grab it. Tighter. Pull it back and forth. Oh, that’s good. Lick it.”

Still stroking, she licked from the balls up the side of his shaft, then removed her hand and took the head into her mouth, and picked up stroking the base.

“Suck it. Swirl your tongue around the head. Deeper. Bob your head. Ahhh… that’s good. Faster.”

She dropped one hand to her clit, as she followed his instructions.

“Take it as deep as you can.” He grunted in satisfaction. “Hold it—and release. Oh, that’s fantastic, Jenny. Keep doing that. Keep doing everything you’ve been doing.”

Feeling pleased with herself, she attacked his cock with more vigour. Dave, absorbed by now in his own lust, urged her on. When he felt himself building towards a climax, he stopped her. “Your turn now.”

He pulled her to her feet, and then pushed her back onto the sofa. Her head dropped back and her eyes closed as he kissed her, and then she felt his fingers and tongue explore her neck, her collarbone, her chest, her breasts, her nipples. Dave worked his way down her body, tracing glorious threads of silver across her skin, until, just above her pussy, he detached, and then a second later found her thighs, her inner thighs, and then her soaking snatch. She had never been licked before, and it felt like bursts of lighting shooting through her by now screamingly sensitive nerves. His tongue rested on her clit; paused, pressed, flicked around it. He lifted, and then licked from the bottom of her labia to the top, brushing her bead and then, teasingly trailed his tongue first on one side, and then the other, and then she jolted as he hit the button. He repeated, faster, all the way down, back up, to the sides, and then bang on target. She gasped, and he did it again, then used the whole flat blade of his tongue on the length of her pussy. It pressed, and snaked inside her. This was too much to take, and when he slid a finger inside her and dabbed her clit, at the same time, she came, a great wave of sensation rolling through her.

He didn’t let up; a second finger slipped inside, both digits arching upwards in her, and his tongue flicked random patterns across and around her bud, and she came again. And again. With his other hand, he found the condoms. He took his hand out to tear the packet, took it out, blew it, rolled it on, and asked her: “Ready?”

“Yes I’m ready!” she almost yelled. “Fuck me already!”

He positioned his cock at the mouth of her vagina, and slid it in, gently, first an inch, then another; paused, pulled back, rested, and pushed it in again.

“Please! Fuck me,” she repeated, urgently.

He eased it further, inch by inch; she swallowed it, hungrily, her hands on his back, pulling him into her, ripples of pleasure passing through her body.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, and with one hand she did, the other still behind him, urging him in. She strummed her clit as he slid all the way in, and held her, then started to roll his hips, in and out.

“Oh fuck!” she gasped. “Oh, fuck!”

Slowly, gradually, he cranked up the velocity, and the intensity, until she lost it again, a boiling energy surging through her. Her eyes locked on his; her body was his; her orgasms crashed through her as he slammed home, again and again, until, with a bellow, he sank all the way home, his cock convulsed, and he came, massively.

They rested for a moment.

“Oh, shit,” she sighed.

He withdrew, his cock still rampant, and collapsed on the sofa next to her. Rolled off the condom, knotted it and dropped it in the bin. They sat in each other’s arms, shaking.

She looked at his cock, still gloriously erect; and at the rest of the string of condoms; and placed her hand on his shaft, and stroked it gently. “Are you done?” she asked. “Because I’m not done.”

He gave a slight laugh. “Give me a minute.”