The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Impulse Control

by Pizzahead

Six — Some Enchanted Evening

At the start, I’d only had fleeing my parents’ home in my mind, without any idea of where I’d go or what I’d do. But after hearing my stepmother getting on her own case about being attracted to me, I knew exactly where I needed to go, and the purpose. I awakened Blizzard and cast the equivalent of a dog-spell on him by saying four magic words: “Go for a ride?” Just like that he was with me out the house, and in the passenger seat of my car.

It was only a fifteen minute drive to the chalet I’d seen online, but when I got there it felt like the property existed in a different dimension. The light had mostly faded and a cold wind was blowing from the northwest, the larger trees in the surrounding woods swaying slightly from side to side. You could see how this wind was as much a part of the property as the structure itself; one side of the chalet had so much snowdrift sloping up to the windows that when I tried to view the structure from all sides, I couldn’t circumnavigate the place without stepping into the woods.

Blizzard thought we were going in; he climbed the front steps to the large deck leading to the door and sat there barking. I joined him and tested the doorknob—locked, but I could peek through a window and make out the main room with its free-standing wood stove, and an adjoining kitchen area demarcated by an L-shaped bar, complete with barstools.

Casual charm, and Blizzard already liked it. Seclusion, with only three other houses on this stretch of twisty country road, and none of them close. Those selling points were all true, but when my phone rang and I saw on the screen that it was Nell, the truth of what I was after chimed like a bell: Love-nest.

“Hi,” I said, trudging back to the warmth of my car.

“Hi. You sound breathy. Are you outside?”

“I am. I’m with Blizzard and we’re at… This is a long story but I’m outside a little chalet I saw online. I’m going to try to rent it, maybe as soon as tomorrow, and finally be on my own.”

A pause as Nell digested this, and thought whatever thoughts she had. “I’ll have to get you a housewarming gift.”

I wanted Nell to be my housewarming gift, but what I said was, “That would really be sweet.”

“As I remember it, you helped me shovel our walkway the very first day we moved next door to you. I think that was sweet. But tell me… Did something happen? I mean, to move out before you graduate…”

“No big blow-ups or anything like that. It’s just…” My stepsister, your best friend from high school, won’t stop attacking my dick and I don’t have the willpower to stop her, and my stepmother looks like she’s poised to go the copycat route. “…I’m ready. Even if it’s only for a few months, I’m ready.”

“You know…” she began and then trailed off.

I wished I could do as the night before, making her utter the words ready to leap from her lips. “Yes?” I had to fish instead.

“Maybe we’re on the same wavelength, because I was just thinking about life changes. Like how we believe we know ourselves, what we’re capable of and what we aren’t, but then an experience comes along, something that just blows our expectations out of the water and… It changes us, you know? Like what we thought about someone isn’t real, or we discover a hidden capacity in ourselves that surprises us, or even shocks us, and after that, the way we looked at things before is changed. We see opportunities that didn’t exist before and… Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” I said, wondering if it could be her magically ramped-up orgasm last night that had blown her expectations away, and shocked her. And what she had thought about someone that turned out to be something else—her boyfriend? Me?

“If you move out, we won’t be neighbors anymore,” she said with a hint of wistfulness.

I hadn’t really considered that. I’d just discovered that I could go inside Nell on the impulse-field when she was in her bedroom, and here I was, determined to move a fifteen minute drive away. Not a reason to stay put, though, as she would only be in town for a matter of days.

“I’ll help you move,” she said, her voice brighter. “Do you need furniture, or kitchen stuff? I have some things stored in my parents’ basement that you could borrow.”

“Whoa, you’re getting ahead of events. I haven’t even called the owner of this place because it’s Christmas. I’ll get in touch first thing tomorrow, and then… I can’t even guarantee he’ll rent it to me. I hope he will…“

“Let me be there when he first meets you. Sometimes men get in a more accommodating mood when there’s a pretty girl around.”

A pretty girl—more like a triggering device to make dicks explode. I didn’t think I needed the help; if the landlord had even the slightest impulse to rent the place to me, I’d make it happen. But what Nell was offering, and just the fact that she was offering it, had me getting hard. “I gratefully accept your offer. You’re being…”

I was looking for the right words, like “sweet” or “nice”, and Nell supplied: “What I’ve been is very tardy. I’ve been remembering little things you did for me in the past, like helping me shovel the walkway a bunch of times, digging my car out, jump-starting my car… You were always there for me in little ways and I never thanked you properly. I don’t feel very proud of that.”

“Not a big deal.”

“That’s because you have a generous nature, while I was… Well, not awful or anything, but I might have gotten too full of myself and forgotten to be friendly when… Oh, you know what I mean. You were being nice to me, just out of the goodness of your heart, and I gave you nothing in return. Somebody should spank me.”

Full hardness now, from picturing my hand contacting Nell’s very round ass.

She made a funny little sound into the phone, which got me thinking: Is she into being spanked, like that’s a turn-on? She cleared her throat before going on. “So was your Christmas good? Did you get everything you wanted? Any surprises?”

I had to laugh. “Definitely some surprises. I got more of some things than I wanted, or thought I wanted…”

“I call that gift piling-on.”

I thought about Lila’s relentlessness where my cock was concerned. “There was some piling on for sure. How about your Christmas?”

“We had a good day. I got a really cute leather coat and some outfits… I’ll have to show you. Too much food, though; I’m stuffed. And a little disappointed because… You see, we were going to be driving home by now but it’s icing just enough to freak out all the relatives, so my folks have decided to stay overnight. That means I’ll be here tonight, not there.”

Did I hear three unspoken words that were like a good strong stroking of my inflated dick, as in “here tonight, not there where you are?” I could be imagining that, just as I imagined it was the potion in her system that had made her say she wanted me to see her in her new outfits. I was impulse-blind on the phone like this, and would give anything to be inside her head, deciphering her thought processes by all the little hints along the way. Or fuck it, just inside her, to the hilt, my face buried between twin mountains of knocker-flesh.

“So we have a plan?” Nell asked. “I’ll be home by the middle of the afternoon tomorrow and we’ll meet your future landlord together?”

“Definitely. As long as I can get hold of the future landlord in the first place, to arrange it.”

“Not the end of the world if you can’t. We could go see a movie together, or just talk or… something.”

Something, as in a thing?

Other than somewhat halting and polite good-byes, that was the end of the call, and the end of the call brought the question of what I should do for the next number of hours away from home. Because, face it, home was no longer home. Home was where you went to be safe and cozy, but one careless fuck-up had turned my parents’ house into a minefield where one wrong step and boom, technically-not-incest exploded. I kept remembering Meghan in the lingerie she’d been wearing first thing in the morning; the woman had looked like nitroglycerin sex in heels, and I was absolutely certain she’d come this close to giving me some kind of quickie. And I couldn’t help it—it made me throb with desire when I replayed her voice in the bathroom, arguing with herself to stop wanting to fuck me. I could manage to keep myself away from those troubled waters, but if we ever ended up somewhere alone together and she came on strong, I knew I’d never be able to resist her.

Unless, of course, there was a magic spell for that. From the dreamlike memories I had of that living book, there might be a spell for everything written on one of its countless pages. A spell to go back forty-eight hours in time, perhaps. A spell that acted as an antidote to the attraction magic inside Lila and Meghan.

“A spell that gives me two cocks, so I could fuck them into delirium at the same time,” I said, which was absurd, but honest.

I was certain that the book existed, just as the old man serving its needs had existed. It might be possible that they lived on some plane or dimension not quite connected to the earth—just thinking that told me how little I knew about the interaction, or interface, of the book with ordinary life. But I believed—intuited?—that the old man had a house or mansion somewhere in the vicinity of Wolverine, where I’d awakened in my car.

Which gave me a mission to go on while staying away from Lila and my stepmother.

“Go for a real drive?” I asked Blizzard, and true to his nature he answered with a soft bark and a long-tongued smile, his way of saying he was always ready for the next adventure. “Your fault that I’m in this situation in the first place,” I told him. But then, if I was going to lay the blame at Blizzard’s four feet, I’d also have to credit him if/when I got my cock between Nell’s tits. Maybe I’d howl at the moon in his honor. Fuck, I’d probably be howling at the moon just because.

We hit the interstate as it became full night, and I told Blizzard all about my plans to bring in a bunch of cash every month to set up my new lifestyle. He had a role to play, and listened for at least three minutes of the one-way conversation before curling up on the seat and falling asleep.

I had plenty of time after that to think about how the attraction spell had taken hold inside of Lila, and I decided it couldn’t be a coincidence that someone so rebellious and anti-establishment in her views was treating the topic of incest, even our not-quite incest, in the same spirit. It was the magic that had her hand-jobbing and leg-jobbing and blow-jobbing her stepbrother, and any moral dissonance was being blanketed by a belief that this was just another way to stick it to the system. The spell had made itself completely invisible to her by wrapping itself around one of the fundamentals of her personality.

And Meghan? Compared to her daughter she had a very methodical personality; it made her a great librarian and you had to be like that to train for bodybuilding competitions year after year. Whatever magic-induced feelings she had for me were obviously eating at her sense of order—was she able to rationalize her feelings of attraction in moments, or were they like some sort of plague that had blown in, an ill wind that just had to be fended off somehow?

And Nell? I didn’t know her well enough to guess her thoughts concerning the sudden pull in my direction. From what she had expressed so far, it was like discovering a local resource she had failed to recognize in the past. I had been there all along just waiting to be acknowledged, and maybe even desired, and now, for some strange reason, her eyes were open. How insane it was it to her basic nature to have feelings for her high school best friend’s younger brother, not yet graduated, was yet to be seen.

Getting Nell in bed was still the goal; I knew it in the core of my being and my cock knew it too, turning to stone every time I pictured her unbuttoning her shirt or pulling a sweater over her head, and unclasping an almost absurdly huge bra to give me my first flesh-and-blood view of her knockers. With the spell inside her, maybe those actions would feel every bit as natural to her as the sun rising in the east; or, more like my stepmom, she could wonder what the hell she was feeling and doing.

When the exit sign for Wolverine appeared I had this odd feeling. There were no clear memories, but there was a general sense that I was following the right breadcrumbs as I left the interstate and slowed onto smaller roads. The village of Wolverine wasn’t remarkable in any way; it was loosely surrounded by state forest land and had a Catholic and Methodist church at its center, a town hall, two gas stations and two saloons. About half of the houses were decorated with holiday lighting, and when I filled the car at the only open gas station, the air was fragrant with wood smoke.

I felt I was off-track when looking around the village center, so I did some random driving out different state highways, half-believing I would see a house or a driveway or just some patch of trees that triggered a memory. That never happened, but I did get a prickling on the back of my neck when the land dipped down eight or nine miles west of Wolverine, into an almost impenetrable fog. I couldn’t see shit; it was pitch black except for my headlights scattering back into my face, and I didn’t think it would have made much difference if there had been a full moon or a row of streetlights illuminating the landscape. A hundred yards back there had been nothing but scrubby woodland all around, with no indications of any change ahead, and then boom, a wall of mist. Creeping ahead, the atmosphere eventually grew less dense, and then I was out the other side, back into clear winter black.

The old man had legions of spells at his command; as far as I knew there could have been a house as big as a cathedral right next to the blacktop in the pea soup behind me, impossible to perceive. I pulled a U-turn and re-entered the mist, and when it was at its thickest I pulled over to the shoulder. With a leash attached I gave Blizzard a roadside pee break, and asked him if he could smell things I couldn’t see. He seemed to think everything was as it should be, no barking, no help at all. It was a weird feeling—trust my regular senses, which saw or heard nothing, or trust in something inside that I couldn’t even call a sense, that told a different story?

Just because, I called out a loud hello into the night. No response, not even the sound of a leaf rustling. “I have a phone, you know!” I yelled into dark blank, followed by my number. “Call anytime!”

Was I being silly? A practiced conjurer who did not want to be found was not going to be found; I knew that. But I already believed there was a deeper truth at play here—it was really more a question of whether the book wanted to be found.

What to do next was not immediately apparent, but I knew something I was not going to do tonight—I was not going to pretend I could sleep in my own bed. Heading back to Wolverine central, I called home and decided to lie to Meghan, telling her I was at Rock’s and that I’d be spending the night there. And when I rang off it hit me that, if everything went as I hoped, I would never again have to call and lie about my whereabouts. I would have my own independent life, nobody’s business but my own.

I tried to get a room for the night at a motel in the village of Eagle Nest, but they didn’t allow dogs and I was not going to make Blizzard sleep in the car. I was prepared at the next motel, casting the impulse spell at the Pakistani guy at the check-in desk. Absolutely no dogs, but when I offered to pay twenty dollars extra, an impulse to say yes did bloom inside him, and I seized upon it and got us a room.

I also used my magic in a diner called the North Pole, that, perhaps required by law, was open on Christmas. My waitress was a petite, really pretty thing in her early twenties, with natural red hair and a peaches-and-cream complexion, complete with a small beauty mark to the right of her mouth. She and another waitress were decked out in little elf suits with red tights and form-fitting bodices, and mine—a name tag said her name was Dawn—had the better figure by far, with enough of a cleavage-crack peeking above her buttoned front that it kept attracting my gaze.

“No Christmas dinner at home tonight?” she asked, handing me a menu.

Loving what I saw, I sighed out the impulse spell before replying: “We had more like a Christmas lunch, and things got a little weird. What about you? How late do they make you work on Christmas night?”

“Just another hour and a half or so. It’s not so bad.” She had an impulse to say something more, and I decided to pull it out. “It’s not much of a Christmas when my husband is in Afghanistan. He’s safe, working in communications in Kabul, but… It’s hard. You know, being alone. No children; I don’t think I’m anywhere near being ready for that, but that means it’s just… me.”

Her eyebrows raised and her forehead wrinkled a little; she seemed surprised that she’d confided all that, and mumbled that she’d give me a couple of minutes to look over the menu. As she took care of other customers, I did a bit of ogling, really liking her legs in the tights, and the curve of her ass, too. The fit of her costume had her boobs all bundled together, and there was no doubt she had some fine treasures there. And maybe she was lonely, and understandably horny?

It would be so easy to wait and watch, and cast the attraction spell on anything she was poised to drink. I wondered, though—how far could I get with someone like this waitress when using nothing but impulse magic? It wasn’t the best night to find out; if I scored big and she invited me to come home with her, I wouldn’t even want to do it, because I had Blizzard back in my motel room. But just to see, to try… What harm could there be in giving it a shot?

Food-wise they had a special called Yuletide Stew, but I’d been munching cold turkey and all I really wanted was a side of fries. I decided I’d try to have a beer with that, another test of the impulse magic, and when Dawn returned I asked for a Blue Moon. The impulse did arise in her to ask something, likely involving proof of my age, and I made her bite down on that.

“I don’t know how they got him to do it,” I said as she scribbled on a little pad, and she had no idea what I was talking about. “Your husband—did they have to kidnap him to get him on a plane? Because to leave someone as lovely as you behind…”

She made a funny face before saying: “They call it duty, patriotism. Plus, he would have been thrown in the brig if he didn’t go.”

It was pretty clear that my comment had been seen for what it was, a lamely disguised attempt at flirting. That was okay, when I had tricks up my sleeve that might yet save the day.

I shook my head like I’d never be able to understand how anyone could leave a woman as lovely as she was for even a day, though I thought I had a pretty good picture of her situation. She and hubby had married young, and there weren’t but so many prospects for a lot of people in Michigan, which made the military an attractive option for getting a start. Dawn came across as being a simple American girl with great skin and even better tits, and I’d bet anything she and hubby would be in great shape in ten years or so, selling insurance and taking their kids to soccer games and ballet classes. Until then, these were the lean years, with Dawn all alone, waitressing to keep things together and preferring to work on Christmas night rather than sitting at home alone.

She said she’d be back in a minute with my beer, and as she turned she had an impulse to say something else. I took a chance, and pushed.

“You’re transparent, but kind of sweet,” she smiled over her shoulder, before walking away.

She rested her rear on a barstool while giving my drink order to the bartender, and glanced back at me a couple of times, our eyes briefly meeting. I stayed tuned-in, both visually and on the impulse field, looking for opportunities. She laughed at something the bartender said, and I loved the innocence there in her features. A Ginger babe—that’s what Rock would have called her. I wasn’t sure if that was a reference to the movie star character on Gilligan’s Island, or a way of encapsulating any attractive redhead. And didn’t redheads have Viking blood in them? Fierce, I thought. Spirited.

Fucking a lovely Viking lass on Christmas night—who could ask for anything more?

Her left hand went to the top knot of her bodice, rolling it in her fingertips… Maybe there was no conscious intention to do it—hard to say—but at least her fingers had the impulse to untie that knot. I helped them decide to do just that, and even from far away it was evident how she now had more cleavage showing. The bartender noticed; he leaned in and said something and she shook her head, and called him a naughty man.

I was the real naughty man on the premises, though all invisibly. I thought it bad form to appear too stalker-y when Dawn returned with my beer, so I got out my phone, pretending to be looking at something important.

“Here you go,” she said, bending a little more at the waist than was necessary when placing my mug on the table. I hadn’t had an invisible hand in that—maybe brandishing her cleavage was just a game to her, a way to pass the time. Or she was trying to make the bartender jealous, or had simply decided to follow where her frisky fingers had led, which had her brandishing the goods, just a little.

“Just perfect,” I said, which she could interpret any way she wanted.

“What’s your name? You aren’t from around here or I’d already know you.”

“John. I live about two hours south.”

“You’re in college down there?”

Giving me the benefit of the doubt. “Not yet. I’m taking some time to work for myself. I’m a carpenter.”

Her head tilted with her eyes going to my hands, perhaps expecting them to be rough and calloused. “And you came up here because…”

So it was twenty questions. I had one of my own that I didn’t voice—were there two D’s on the sizing label of her bra? That’s what it looked like to me, but what I voiced was: “What if I told you I have a thing for elves?”

“I wouldn’t believe a word, that’s what.”

“I guess I’ll go with the truth, then, that I’m here by chance. Christmas at home wasn’t doing it for me and I got in my car and just wanted to drive. This is where I ended up. You being an elf… That’s just an unexpected treat.”

She looked thoughtful, then glanced at the bar, maybe checking to see if anyone cared that she was taking her time with me. Another impulse to say something, and I gave her no choice. “You can have a refill on me if you want.”

I was about to ask her why, but stopped short when I realized I already knew. It was faint, a little like hearing a kitten mewing from up in a tall tree, but I could sense, as a kind of presence on the impulse field, that Dawn’s clitoris was alive, or switched on. Maybe it was the bartender’s remark, or just the horniness of being alone for so long. Or it could be that my impulse-nudge to get her to show off her tits a bit more had awakened a little fantasy, and that was having an effect. It didn’t really matter, did it? What mattered was that I had something I could latch onto, and juice.

“Thank you Dawn,” I said, reaching in and mentally stroking what I’d felt in her. “You make me feel like I came to the exact right place tonight.”

Her lips parted, and it was subtle but her weight shifted. She cleared her throat before saying: “Let me see, you know, how your fries are doing.”

I had an erection under the table because this was so fucking fabulous, being able to sense that little trace of female excitement, right there at her core, with the ability to manipulate it. I’d experienced this with others already, but it hadn’t quite dawned on me—ha, pun—just how handy a capacity this could be when out and about, looking to score. I didn’t have to wonder whether a woman’s snatch wished to be scratched; I could tell.

I never took my eyes off Dawn, and anytime she glanced my way I gave the sexual impulses in her clit a little gas. I had to figure that lots of women got horny the way guys did, just their mood or too much time between getting off, or some thought or scenario playing in their head, or perhaps a memory of something that had gotten them hot before. With the impulse spell opening a window onto the resulting excitement, couldn’t I go Pavlovian and essentially train a woman into thinking about fucking me? Frank Sinatra’s voice and some of the lyrics to “Some Enchanted Evening” came into my head—what if, every time a woman looked at this particular stranger across a crowded room, her clitoris buzzed with need? If Dawn, say, got palpably hornier every time she looked at me or heard my voice…

When she brought my food, I went bold, and said, “Your lips,” with a little extra impulse gas.

“My lips?”

More gas. “That’s what he must dream about the most. Because they’re fabulous; you must know that.” And even more gas.

“I uh… Thank you, I…” More gas. “Oh!” she said, with a quick glance at the clock over by the bar, and she had some elf-like color in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. “So how does Christmas end for you, John? Do you just drive back home after you’re finished here?”

“I got a room at The Lamplighter down the road. My dog, Blizzard, is there right now.” Give her more gas when mentioning the dog? Nah.

“Oh, I love dogs. What kind is he?”

“A Husky/Pomeranian mix.”

“I know what a Husky looks like, but…”

“Smallish with a really full tail, and he has the bright blue eyes. Great in the snow, too.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

More gas now, hoping that a scenario would float into her mind where she asked me to walk her to her car, and I got in and she gave me a happy holidays blowjob. She did lick her lips—that was a favorable sign—and I wasn’t quite sure but I thought I might have just inhaled a tiny bit of cunt-perfumed air. She glanced at the clock again; it hadn’t even been a minute since the last time.

“I’ll check on you in a little bit, John. Just catch my eye when you’re ready for another Blue Moon.”

I was ready to see her tits unveiled, but sipped my beer and picked at my fries instead. I liked how Dawn kept slipping my name in when she spoke; it could just be a strategy for getting a better tip, but it might also be the honest workings of her lips and tongue, reflecting how something about me made her feel frisky. She got busy with a table of six and I worried that she might come down completely from the magic, so I polished off my beer and signaled her as soon as she looked my way.

“They’re a loud bunch,” she said, nodding towards the other table while giving me another mug, with another extended view of her bosom. “But I guess everyone should be allowed to have some fun on Christmas.”

As if to second that opinion, I gave her clit a good kickstart while letting my eyes linger on her rack. The shine in her eyes changed; they were an aqua shade of blue, and I liked how even her eyelashes were fair. A hand went to a little gold cross between her collarbones; I hadn’t even noticed it before because my eyes were parked on her flesh.

“I put this on this morning, thinking I’d try to be pious today, no more of this commercial crap for Christmas.”

“How has that gone?” I asked, staring at her tits instead of the cross, and stoking her clit-jets even more.

She sighed. “Fine, for a little while.” Her whole face was redder now. “But you know… Screw being pious, it’s… I’m just not in that kind of mood. I think I’m ready to take this thing off.” She did so right in front of me, and looked at it in her hand for a couple of seconds. Out from a little pocket came my check, and in went the cross and its chain. “Listen, John, your refill really is on me. You tip me whatever you feel like, but the real bonus I want tonight is to meet your little dog, okay? Brenda and my boss might get the wrong idea if I left with you, so write your room number on the check and I’ll come say hello in about half an hour.”

“That would be amazing, Dawn.”

The kind of amazing that had never happened to me before, and wouldn’t be happening now without my unfair advantage. I was just as certain that Dawn had never contemplated such a move before, too, which made me want to kiss my magic.

Blizzard went all playtime back in the motel room, jumping from twin bed to twin bed and taunting me with one of my gloves. He got me laughing and when we were done tussling I said, “I think I’m going to like this new life, buddy.” And just for the hell of it I tried casting the impulse spell on him, which, as expected, was like firing a blank. I took him for a brief pee walk and he was just falling asleep at the foot of the bed when we both heard a soft rapping at the door.

Blizzard greeted Dawn with a bit of happiness barking, and face licks when she scooped him up. I greeted Dawn with a fresh impulse spell, and found that her clitoris’ desires were still there to be read. I hadn’t been able to keep those fires burning, of course, so she was the author of a baseline degree of lust. The story might not even be about me; if not, I figured I had the tricks to step in and enlarge my role until she needed to have me stuffed inside her.

When she looked at me past Blizzard’s floppy ears, I gave her clit a firm jolt, and that made her let out a little squeal. She appeared flustered for a second, glanced at me, and set Blizzard on the floor, remaining bent a few extra seconds as he licked her hand.

“Not at all a happy dog,” I said.

“You obviously mistreat him,” she joked back, picking up the bag she’d set on the floor to deal with the dog. “Here, I brought us a few beers from work. I am so ready to relax a little.”

Dawn unzipped her winter coat and removed a scarf, and just like that there were two large breasts in the room, that looked a hell of a lot sexier out of an elf costume.

“Wow,” I said, accepting a beer and twisting off the cap. “I was fooled at the restaurant, but you actually look more human than elf.”

She smiled and I juiced her clit again, and the smile trembled a little and the tilt of her eyebrows changed. She took a long pull on her bottle and I looked at the way the overhead light sculpted the tops of her breasts, visible in the scooping neckline of her blouse. These must be the clothes she’d worn to work and she didn’t mind showing off her figure.

Dawn glanced around the room and chose the right-hand bed to perch her rear on. “You don’t mind of I take off my shoes?” she asked, and I had to practice some impulse control of my own to refrain from telling her to take off anything or everything. She got comfortable by arranging herself to sit cross-legged on the bed, one hand at her lap in ladylike fashion to keep from flashing the goods under her skirt, all while exuding raw youthful sensuality. She looked nervous, like never in her life had she imagined she’d be in a motel room with a stranger, thinking about having sex. I wasn’t sure what to say or even where to be, so I just concentrated on the heat I could feel smoldering inside her, stoking it with my mind.

“Oh John,” she said, almost a whisper. “I never thought…” She drank the rest of her beer down. “I can hardly believe I came here. I mean…”

And then, too fast for me to see the impulse and have time to react, she launched herself off the bed and went to the switch for the overhead light, turning it off. There was still plenty to see by filtering though the curtains, hot tones coming from a couple of streetlights and the red of the neon sign spelling Lamplighter. With the lights out Blizzard hopped onto the other bed—good boy—and Dawn came up to me, pressing her breasts and hips tight to my front, whispering that she had never done anything like this before, and she was a little bit afraid.

I put my arms around her waist and kissed her, drawing her close. My erection pressed where I wanted it to press and she let out an inspiring hiss, before saying: “It’s been almost eight months. I—”

I cut her off by giving her clit the strongest buzz of the night, and just like that she was all over me, tongue plunging in and her legs hopping up to wrap around my lower back. She panted into my mouth while kissing and her hips were moving like she’d hump the very first thing she could, cock or leg or doorknob, anything. She wasn’t heavy but I thought it time to be on a bed, and I pivoted that way and set her down on her back, climbing on top.

My hands went for the bottom of her blouse but hers were faster, pulling it over her head with lustrous red hair going every which way. She wiped hair from her face and unfastened her bra, and with a beautiful sideways surge there they were, wonderfully full with big button nipples. It was hard to tell for sure in this light, but her areoles appeared to be fair, too, a pale salmon pink that complimented her hair.

I buried my face in those tits. They might be mosquito bites compared to the ultimate prize of Nell’s ginormous gazongas, but even so they were easily the largest and most beautiful breasts I had ever had the privilege to fondle, and kiss, and suck. Dawn loved it, even without me doing anything extraordinary, sighing and letting out quick little “Oh! Oh!’s”

Maybe it was that she was a stranger, or perhaps it was from knowing it had been forever since the poor girl had been fucked; whatever the reason, I felt like a cock-god who’d descended from the heavens, given an edict to go forth into her pussy’s world. Not with thunderbolts, though; Dawn had never precisely said for me to be gentle, but any idiot could see the vulnerability written all over her.

As I continued the loving on her tits, I reached back to her thighs, and slipped a hand up her skirt. She lifted her hips and hiked the skirt to help, and I found moist panties, and pulling them aside, a sopping wet pussy.

And there was my mission. I inserted one finger, then two, and she hissed and squirmed, her hips rolling to help move me inside her. I left off sucking her nipples to plant soft kisses down her abdomen, and past the bunched-up skirt, and together we widened her legs. She had very few pubic hairs, just a thin trail of downy red to match the mane on her head, and it was Dawn-pussy receiving the kisses now, gentle and exploratory, covering every bit of terrain except for her clitoris. I could feel that seat of excitement as being like an amped-up beast in a cage, aching for its moment of release. I took my time, very slowly finger-plumbing inside Dawn, kissing her thighs and in to her labia, and her clit just buzzed and buzzed all on its own, making her pant and hiss but not cum, not yet.

I’d learned already that if I poured it on too much, a climax could deliver a knock-out blow, and I didn’t want the night to end too soon. So when the tip of my tongue flicked at Dawn’s clit, I did nothing special on the impulse field. Magic had gotten us into this position, but now I just let her body find its way home.

“Oh yes,” she said, hips gyrating. “Oh yes, oh God yes.”

I was so happy that I’d held off making her clit go all bucking bronco through magical means, because I could see that I had learned so much about going down on a woman from Nancy. She had taught me that variety was desirable; she had said one time that I should remember how this was not target practice, but an organic system of related parts. But on the other hand, going down on a woman was like taking dance partners in a court filled with lovely and tasty handmaidens and princesses—they may each be given their turn and even charmed, but there was only one queen, and all the rest was useless without acknowledging her sovereign her power, and ultimately earning her favor.

I don’t know that I danced with them all in Dawn’s case, but I remembered to give the queen my full attention for a time, and then I circulated around the room, making new friends and exchanging little kisses. Then back to the queen, my tongue telling her a different story than before, a more focused tale where I let her understand that it was the happiness of queens that was my real purpose in life. And not letting anything deter me from uttering every word of my story, talking over the sounds of, “Oh God, oh God, oh…” that were rising like a chant. Telling my story faster, repeating certain phrases where I could see she had felt a concentrated thrill…

“Oh God, oh God, ohhhhh!”

It made me feel like a true cunnilinguist when Dawn’s legs jerked and she gushed all over my tongue, the muscles of her waist vibrating and her head flipping from side to side.

She had multiple orgasms; the first one was a solid jolt, followed by three smaller echoes, which were in turn followed by a larger and broader boom, like thunder that rumbles. I didn’t have to wonder whether I’d shown her a good time, not with all the girl-sighs that came out afterwards, like sirens winding down. I really enjoyed the sounds this woman made!

Lifting my head from between her legs, I saw that Dawn’s eye were wide open, staring up, and they didn’t blink for the longest time. I couldn’t detect a single impulse inside her, until she had the urge to speak, and did.

“I feel like a different person after that. I was so… so gummed up!” Several seconds of silence before she lifted her head and added: “You’re wonderful. But it hardly seems fair that you still have your pants on. I guess I…”

A hand went to her throat, fingers searching, and then she seemed to remember that she’d taken off the cross that had been there. I thought I knew what was going on—I remembered the steps from the online description of impulse control, where the thrill of the impulse gave way to acting upon it, and then, possibly, the rise of guilt or remorse afterwards. Dawn had just cheated on her husband for the first time, but she had only received sex—she hadn’t yet given it. To her, for religious reasons or otherwise, that might be rationalized as only a half-step towards infidelity or general waywardness.

Anything could happen next, from fucking me or giving me a blow-job or tit-job, or she might tell me we were done, that she couldn’t go through with anything more because the feelings of guilt were too strong. And that last possibility was just no good.

I stood and took my pants and underwear off, letting her see my erection. That got a whispered, “Oh my,” and a flaring on her impulse field that I could exploit. Whatever her head was trying to convince her to do or not do, Dawn’s body had an appetite for cock.

I buzzed that seed of renewed excitement in her, and she let out a little gasp before whispering, with emotion, “I’m not a whore.” There was an impulse to say something more and I made it come out. “I’m a whore!” she said more forcefully.

I’m no idiot—I didn’t point out that she had just contradicted herself, asking her to clarify whether she was or wasn’t. Her clitoris might have just gotten its jollies but it was still visible to me on the impulse field, and if Dawn’s upbringing was rearing its head to put recent events into a whore/not-whore conundrum, her clitoris was less conflicted, because it saw thick hard cock and quite obviously, impulse-wise, liked the idea of rubbing up against it.

I juiced Dawn’s clit, emphatically to match the tone of her last statement. “Ahh!” she said, legs twitching, a hand going there as if to soothe, or play, or try to fathom through touch what the hell was going on down there.

What was going on was that Dawn, as a sexual being, wanted my cock, even if the rest of her needed to catch up a little. I knew an exciting thing when I saw it—her and her internal desire—and so I positioned myself over top of her, my cock-head grazing her pussy, knock-knock. Her clit knew who was there, and Dawn’s thighs had the impulse to widen, and I made sure they did.

“I’m such a whore!” she said again, planned speech this time, not an impulse, which meant she was testing whether it was saying the words that had reawakened her jets. Praise be to Pavlov, I rewarded her carnal assertion yet again with more juicing of her sex systems. She had caught on, good girl, that for some strange reason, every time she called herself a whore she got a jolt of heat from deep in her loins.

When she said the words yet again I pushed my way inside, my hands all over her tits, Dawn repeating that she was a whore and me giving her a dose of pleasure each time. Being a whore became a kind of chanting as I increased the rhythm of my penetration; I kept going faster and she shortened her mantra to the single word, “Whore!”, repeated over and over until it just became “Hunh!”, more expelled than said. I loved watching her tits undulate with the pounding, and when I felt my release was imminent I reached into her core and drew out an orgasm from her depths, working it so that when I spasmed my release, I could feel the wet of her exploding all around my dick.

She did not go quietly into the night, because Dawn, with a cock inside her and one release slamming into another, was a screamer. Eventually those sounds trailed off into cooing sounds, and she kept me pulled tight to her body, our hearts beating together.

Afterwards she remained awake, though she seemed to be in a fog, just sighing sometimes. I could feel my erection ebbing the way they’re supposed to, and I had all sorts of thoughts running around in my head, many centering on this: A guy, me, goes into a bar, any bar, and utters some dumbshit pick-up line to a hot babe, and the punchline is that he ends up getting to fuck her. All with impulse magic, not even any need to unholster the attraction spell.

I pictured several scenarios where I impulsed a complete stranger into fucking me, or giving me a blow-job; I got hard again from the fantasies, and I wasn’t inside Dawn anymore—I’d just slipped out—but with my cock-head grazing her thigh and a quick intake of her breath, I could tell that she had felt the change.

She sat up, legs over the bedside, bare feet on the floor. “John, I…”

I sat up, too. The earlier impulse spell had worn off, and for some reason, perhaps plain curiosity—or to preserve curiosity—I didn’t cast a new one.

“I need to get home,” she said, glancing at my erection, then quickly looking away. “Don’t think it’s easy to leave… This has been amazing. You’re amazing. You might not believe this, but I think tonight has been the best sex of my life and I… I need to do some soul-searching. I’m married, and I love him… I mean I think I do… I’ve got a whole lot to think about.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips or her hair or the lovely thrust of her breasts as she spoke. She was a jewel of a woman, and her far-away husband was one lucky man. I could let her walk out the motel room door, but I wondered: if not for my Grail quest, Nell, would it be possible for me to just let a woman as fine as Dawn go, never to be seen again?

She was efficient in getting dressed, and when she had her boots and coat on she stroked Blizzard’s sleeping head, a really nice touch. And then, seeing that she would be out the door in a few more seconds, I couldn’t help myself; I cast a fresh spell, then said: “Could I get your phone number?” I could see the doubt written in her eyebrows, so I amended my request. “At least take my number.”

She gave that one a couple of seconds’ thought, and when an impulse arose I pushed. “Okay,” she agreed, “I’ll put your number in my phone. I might never call…”

I knew that, but at least she’d be able to if the desire ever bubbled up.

I put on pants while she added my number, and we kissed good-bye there at the motel room door, like something from a movie. And after seeing Dawn’s car become nothing but tail lights disappearing into the dark Michigan night, I stripped naked again and lay in bed, thinking that I sure did like having this magic at my disposal, and the way it made things possible that had previously been out of bounds.

My first one-night stand. I didn’t know what most people thought about after having sex with a complete stranger, but for me it was a whole lot of imagining how I could succeed at this kind of thing more nights than not, if I wanted to go that route. Where did women congregate when they were horny, or just wished they were horny, or wished they had someone that night to play with? Bars, of course. Wedding receptions.

“Bachelorette parties!” I said out loud, making Blizzard lift his head. An image popped into my mind of me in front of an audience of young inebriated women, all in love with the idea of love. I wouldn’t be entertaining them shirtless and in crotch-grabbing pants, gyrating my pelvis—I’d be performing some kind of magic act, where I “guessed” which card they’d pick, or I made them tell little secrets they’d never revealed before.

“Or where I make them feel things they’d never felt before, backstage.”

I laughed a little, amused at how my thoughts were zooming past the real quest in front of me, which was to get my cock between Nell’s gigantic pair. I was tired—what a fucking Christmas, with so much Christmas fucking—and I stripped and got under the covers, ready to call it one wild and crazy night. Blizzard hopped from the other bed to mine, and curled at the back of my knees, feeling nice and warm, and I wondered if Nell was in bed right now, also awake. I considered texting her, just a quick after-Christmas message that I was thinking about her, but I decided against it.

Let her get her beauty sleep, as if she needed that. Let her be well rested for the pounding of her life.

I set my phone alarm before shutting my eyes, because there was a whole lot to do tomorrow, to get myself in that soft and fleshy place where I was so determined to be, right there next to Nell’s beating heart.