The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Thursday morning found Aimee sitting at her office desk, staring idly at the computer screen. She had come into work quite late, and hadn’t gotten much work done since. It had been another night of wildly erotic dreams. When she awoke Aimee had been in such a state that she just had to bring herself off a couple of times in the shower.

Aimee’s arrival caused a bit of commotion in the office. She was wearing one of her new outfits, this one a bright red jacket and black miniskirt. The jacket had only two buttons. The deep cleft of the lapels showed off just enough of her push-up demi-bra, and its delightful contents, to invite a man’s eyes downward. The rump-hugging mini was daringly short. It displayed the entire length of Aimee’s long, faultless legs, from the top of her thighs to the seven narrow straps on her red platform pumps. Aimee had chosen semi-opaque black nylons with darker stripes up the sides. Sitting down was a major challenge in the new mini, but that was part of the fun. So was walking in the elevated heels.

Aimee picked up the hand mirror and examined her make-up again. She had spent a long time that morning combing out her long blonde hair and shaping it just right around her face. Her red lips were curved upward into an almost permanent smile. She felt wonderfully alive this morning.

Aimee’s new look had hardly surprised her co-workers more than her sunny disposition. When she finally sauntered into the office she had chirped a sing-song “good morning!” to everyone she met. She had been smiling at everyone since.

She was especially friendly with all the men. She chatted and flirted with reporters and layout guys she had always ignored. She felt a little tingle every time she caught one of them checking out her legs or her chest. She had made numerous unnecessary trips to the coffee machine or the files room just to give the guys a good look. There had also been a couple of quite necessary trips to the washroom to relieve the tingles.

When Aimee had returned from the washroom the second time, after pausing to carefully fluff out her hair, the screen-savers on her computer had switched on. Aimee sat and watched them happily for a long time, thinking of the patterns in Dr. Melrose’s office. They were so pleasant.

Aimee was supposed to be doing the follow-up on the City Hall scandal. She was having a hard time getting into it. OK, the planning department had bent the rules a little, but was there really any harm done? Boys would be boys after all, and men, bless their pussy-pleasing wangs, would be men. Local government would be better off if those silly office girls had just relaxed and had some fun instead of raising a big stink. She admitted that her thinking wasn’t too critical today; the idea of screwing in the office was such a turn-on.

The warble of her telephone distracted her from her reverie. She had to take off one of her big gold earrings to use the handset. “Hello,” she said.

“Aimee. It’s me. Mayfair” It was her contact in the mayor’s office.

“Well hi there, honey. Long time no hear. How have you been?”

“I can’t talk now,” the caller said. Aimee could hear the nervousness in her voice. Fairly young, she guessed. “The office is really buzzing. The mayor has gone totally paranoid, and everybody is watching everybody else.”

“But have you got anything for me?”

“I think so. I’ve found a couple of memos indicating particular female employees were to be given bonuses, for no obvious reason. They’re initialled by the mayor.”

“Well, that’s... great. Can you get it to me?”

“They won’t let anybody leave the office during the day. Can you believe that? Meet me some place after five.”

Aimee caught her reflection in the computer screen. “I know! Let’s meet in the Uptown Mall, the south end, near Miguel’s Salon.” She was thinking of getting her hair permed.

The telephone was silent for a long moment. Then: “I meant some place private.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She giggled. “OK, uh, how about this, down by the stadium. Wait around exit G.”

“Better. I’ll be there at 5:30 sharp. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I’ll see ya,” Aimee said, and rang off. It looked like she was going to get her story after all. She put her earring back on.

By early afternoon Aimee hadn’t gotten a great deal done but her new outfit had improved office morale considerably. She had been asked out on three dates and accepted all of them. Maybe she wouldn’t have to rely on her fingers any more.

Mr. Hooper called her into his office. “You wanted to see me, boss?” Aimee said softly, closing the office door behind her.

Mr. Hooper looked up from the article he was editing. “Yes, I just wanted to check—Aimee!” Mr. Hooper had been in his office all morning, so he hadn’t yet seen Aimee’s new look. He was seeing her now though.

It was pretty obvious he liked what he saw. His eyes swept down her lithe figure, taking in the carefully shaped blonde hair and smiling red lips, the upthrusting cleavage, tailored jacket, super-short mini, dark-nyloned legs and crimson high heels. Then they reversed and scanned up the other direction, as if his brain didn’t believe what it saw the first time.

“Aimee,” the editor managed at last, rising from his chair, “What’s all this?”

“What’s the matter, boss,” Aimee teased, “You’ve never seen a woman in a mini before?” She didn’t feel the least offended by her boss’s stare. It gave her a warm glow. She shuffled toward his desk, still a little unsteady in the stacked heels.

Mr. Hooper was having trouble taking his eyes off her legs. “Well, no! I mean, yes. Sure, of course. But Aimee, this is so unlike you. What’s going on? Is there some sort of special occasion?”

Aimee shrugged, still walking toward him. “No occasion, Ted,” she said. “I just felt like it. I mean, you are always telling me to stop wearing jeans to the office.” She studied him from beneath lowered lashes. “This is OK though, isn’t it?” she husked.

From the look on her editor’s face, Aimee could tell that it was rather more than OK. “Well, this isn’t, you know, exactly what I had in mind,” he replied. The overhead lights glimmered on Aimee’s black-striped nylons. “But if I may say so.... you do look.... very... attractive.”

“Why thank you, Ted”, Aimee said warmly. She posed in front of him with one foot thrust forward. Sexual tension had been building between her and her boss for months, she realized now. Mr. Hooper was a solid man; not overweight particularly, just big all around. Aimee found herself hoping that his equipment was proportionately sized. She felt herself moistening.

“But uh, look,” Mr. Hooper said abruptly, pulling his gaze away from Aimee’s thighs, “I just wanted to know how the City Hall story is going.”

Aimee shrugged. “So-so, I guess.”

He shot her a quizzical look. “So-so? What’s that mean?”

She flipped a hand. “I’m waiting for my insider to come across. Not much I can do till then, is there?”

Aimee felt a little irritated by this turn of the conversation. She would get to the story soon enough. She just didn’t see it as a big priority. After all, who could blame the guys in the planning department for having a little fun? With all those choice office girls wiggling around, why wouldn’t healthy young men want to bed a few? It was just human nature. Men were naturally inclined to want to fuck sexy women, and women, if their heads weren’t stuffed with modern nonsense, were naturally inclined to encourage them. That was the wonderful thing about men.

Mr. Hooper was looking perplexed by his best reporter’s indifference. “Aimee, there’s lots else you could do. You could call up other contacts. You could look for evidence of past indiscretions by the mayor. There were rumors of affairs all through his last election campaign.”

Aimee gave her boss a motherly smile. “It’s OK, Ted. You don’t have to project your frustration. I know why you’re really upset.”

“What?”

She took a deliberate step toward him. “It’s me. And you. Us.”

Mr. Hooper looked nervous. “Aimee, what are you talking about?”

Aimee let her voice go low and throaty. “Teddy, you light my fire,” she whispered. “I can tell you feel the same about me. Let’s not fight it any longer.” She took another step around the desk.

“Aimee, I don’t think this is approp....” Mr. Hooper began, but his voice trailed off when Aimee began to run one finger along the hem of her foxy miniskirt.

“Ted, I’m guessing you’re something of a leg man. Is that right?”

“What? No, wait, this isn’t—”

“Tell me,” Aimee insisted.

“Well, uh, yes, I guess you could say that.” His gaze followed her finger.

“I thought so.” She sidled up close to him. “In fact, I bet you’d be a lot happier if I wore a mini to work every day instead of jeans, wouldn’t ya?” She ran her hands up and down his red suspenders.

He gulped air. “Uhm, well, uh, yeah, yes, I uh, guess so.”

“Course you would. But you do like the rest of me too, don’t you?” Aimee pouted. Now one hand traced the lapel of her revealing red jacket.

The movement brought Hooper’s attention to the gentle swells of Aimee’s breasts, now just inches away from his chest. They distracted him while Aimee deftly lowered his suspenders.

“Aimee, for chrissakes... stop this... what’s going on here...” Hooper sputtered, struggling vainly to extract himself from his oversexed reporter.

“Teddy, I want you,” Aimee breathed. “You make me hot! You want me too. I can tell. So let’s get together, just you and me. Real soon. Think about the hot times we could have together!”

“But, but, I’m m—” Aimee silenced his protests with a lustful kiss. Hooper’s pants began to slide down his hips. Aimee helped.

When Aimee finally let him go, her boss was glassy-eyed and bewildered. Aimee kissed him again, this time taking advantage of his exposed boxers to confirm the adequacy of his maleness. Hooper squirmed. “Aimee, please,” he gasped, almost begging. “S-stop this. We’re in the middle of the office!”

Reluctantly, Aimee pulled her hand away. “Well, let’s put in a little overtime, OK, Teddy? Sometime soon?” She checked her watch. Time for her appointment with Dr. Melrose. Getting hammered with her boss’s prick would have to wait for another day.

Aimee held his face in one hand while she gave him one more long, lingering kiss. Then she turned and strutted to the door. She paused on the way out to deliberately adjust her pantyhose. Hooper watched helplessly. Aimee licked her lips as she slipped out of his office.

Out in the hallway, Aimee leaned back against the door and let out her breath. Maybe she had come on a little strong to Mr. Hooper, but shit, she needed a man. And Hooper was definitely hung. She paused for a moment, reliving the feel of his member through his boxer shorts. It was going to be a yummy treat getting stuffed with that. She closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe just one more visit to the washroom before she headed out.

With the time it took to bring herself off a couple of times in the washroom, plus fixing her hair and checking her make-up, it was after three before Aimee finally made it out of the office. She was still way early for her appointment with Melrosy. There were other things to do. In particular, she wanted to check out this really hot boutique Holly had told her about. The outfit she was wearing now was all right for the office (though it was turning more than a few heads here on the street) but for Melrosy she wanted to look her absolute best.

“Thank you, you’re very kind,” said Aimee to the man who was unnecessarily holding the elevator door for her. She flashed him a winning smile. As she tottered down the hallway in her new black suede ankle boots, Aimee was confident that the man was avidly watching her receding figure.

For once there was no one in Dr. Melrose’s waiting room when Aimee came in. She made a mental note to ask Holly about his client list. “Aimee!” cried Holly in delight when she saw her. “Hi! Hey girl, you look terrific! Did you get that at Dazzlers?” She got up from her little desk and came around to where Aimee was standing.

“Sure did,” Aimee replied. “What do you think?” The ripe reporter sported a strapless, black velvet bustier that showcased her buoyant young tits, matched with tight short-shorts that cupped her backside like a lover’s embrace. The bustier had a big zipper down the front, clearly intended to suggest the consequences of pulling it down. Another zipper continued down the middle of her skin-tight, velvet shorts. Both the bustier and shorts were covered, sort of, by a loose, open wrap of transparent black silk. Her luscious legs were encased in shiny, dark nylons, topped off with silver-zippered, suede ankle boots with enormous platform heels.

Aimee had never even considered dressing this way before. She had fallen in love with the outfit in the store though, and impulsively decided to wear it. The stares and whistles she had received just walking into the building were enough to convince her she had made the right choice. She loved showing off for men.

“Oh it’s simply marvellous!” Holly enthused. “You look hot, girl. Like totally awesome! You know, I never thought you had it in you.”

Aimee laughed, feeling proud of herself. “I never thought I had it in me either,” she conceded. “But Holly, you look darn good yourself.” Holly was wearing shorts too, glossy black ones with gold trim that matched her bright tube top. She wore golden fishnet stockings and black platform sandals. The combination, on Holly’s overcurved figure, was nearly enough to set off the fire alarm.

Both blondes laughed amicably. Finally Holly looked at her watch. “You’re a few minutes late today, Aimee. Dr. Melrose says you can go right in.”

“Oakie-dokey.” Aimee said. She admired the way the receptionist’s tube top clung to her pneumatic boobs. Wasn’t she supposed to ask Holly something?

Holly said: “I get off at 4:30, so I won’t be here when you get out. But I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” Impulsively she stepped forward and gave Aimee a full hug. The action caught Aimee by surprise, but she responded warmly. She liked Holly. She also liked the feel of Holly’s big tits against hers. She held the embrace, reluctant for a moment to let go. She could feel the warmth of Holly’s body, the smooth, undulating curves of her lush figure beneath her hands. The hug didn’t seem to have an end.

Finally, a little embarrassed by her own enthusiasm, Aimee pulled herself away. “Well, good night. Uh, I’ll go in now.” She smoothed down her clothing distractedly. She wished she had a mirror. “I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?”

“Sure thing!” Holly returned brightly. Aimee turned and made her way to the inner office, carefully negotiating her outrageous block heels. She had forgotten all about Dr. Melrose’s client list.

Aimee knocked once, then sidled into the inner office. The lights were on. “Hi Morton,” she said softly.

Dr. Melrose was sitting at his desk, poring over patient records. He looked up, smiling. “Ah, Aimee, how nice to see you again.” He regarded her with open appreciation. “My goodness Skeptical Reporter, you are looking... well, altogether smashing today.”

Aimee felt herself warming as Dr. Melrose’s gaze lingered at all the places her new outfit was designed to make him look. She shifted one foot back and forth. Melrosy was such a sexy man. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m late, Morton,” Aimee said. “I was just talking to Holly for a minute.”

Reluctantly, Dr. Melrose turned his attention from Aimee’s legs to her face, taking the scenic route. “Not at all, not at all,” he said good-naturedly. He put aside the folder he was working on. “As a matter of fact, I’ve had a cancellation this afternoon.” He gestured toward the empty therapy couch. “So I’m afraid there is no session for you to sit in on.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Aimee said. She wanted to see the screen-savers again.

Dr. Morton said: “I’ll tell you what, though. If you like I can give you another session yourself. It might give you a bit more background for your article.”

“My what?” asked Aimee, blankly. “Oh, right, for my article, of course. Well, if you don’t mind....” She was already heading for the couch.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Dr. Melrose replied, watching the shapely reporter settle herself into the soft cushions. He grinned privately.

“OK, I’m all ready,” Aimee said. Eagerness showed in her voice. “You can start any time!”

Dr. Melrose took his usual place at the side of the bank of computer screens and began tapping on the keyboard. At once the room lights dimmed and the now familiar patterns of shifting colors appeared on the quincunx of monitors. Aimee sank back into the couch, delightedly letting the soft music wash over her. This time she was going to watch the screens especially close. This time she was going to figure out the pattern underlying everything. This time she was going to put it all together....

Dr. Melrose wheeled his little stool around beside Aimee, facing away from the screens. He asked her how she felt. That was easy: Aimee felt more contented than she had ever been. Her eyes flicked from one screen to the next. Dr. Melrose continued to chat with her as she watched the screen-savers do their slow-motion dance. He had such a charming voice: so mellow; so masculine. It seemed to blend with the music, floating just beneath the surface like the peaceful strumming of rain on the roof. Her eyelids drooped.

Floating. Adrift on a cloud of cottony soft happiness. Lying on her back, blissfully at ease, feeling the warmth of the bright sun in the sky above. There were several suns, each showering her with warmth and comfort. Many suns, in neat rows. They were overhead lights. She was back in Melrosy’s office.

“Ah, awake at last,” said a familiar voice. Dr. Melrose got up from his desk. He walked over to look down at her.

She smiled up at him. “Hmmmmm?”

“You fell asleep again. I guess that proves my relaxation therapy works, wouldn’t you say?”

Aimee made no move to get up. She felt much too comfortable. She looked at her watch. The numbers were too fuzzy to read. That struck her as funny.

“It’s about a quarter past five,” Dr. Melrose supplied. “Here, let me give you a hand up.”

Aimee took the proffered hand and rolled bonelessly off the couch. She had trouble finding her balance on her new heels. She let herself fall loosely against Melrose. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, holding him. “I mus’ be more relaxed than I thought.”

He helped her find her feet. Aimee noticed vaguely that the big zipper on her bustier was half undone. She didn’t bother to fix it.

“Well now,” Dr. Melrose said, pretending to ignore Aimee’s stupefied daze. “That’s our session for today. What time would you like to come in tomorrow?”

Aimee gave him a smoky look. “I’ll come in for you anytime,” she said. She was still holding his arm.

Dr. Melrose grinned and led her back to his desk. He checked his date book. “Hmmm, why don’t you drop by around three? I have a few minutes between appointments. We can discuss any final questions you might have.”

“Sure Morton,” said Aimee. She leaned against the desk with her shapely legs extended. “I’m sure you’ll give me just what I need.” She toyed with the zipper halfway down her chest, but didn’t actually pull it up. Melrose’s eyes dropped to where one nipple was threatening to pop right out of her velvet bustier.

Dr. Melrose looked distracted. “Oh, uh, Aimee, your office called, while you were sleeping. Something about the deadline for your article on City Hall. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Aimee flipped a hand. “That’s OK. It’s nothing important. The mayor’s still just a man, you know.” She liked the way Melrosy was looking at her. He was a man too, and a hunk.

Melrose lifted an eyebrow but his expression betrayed nothing. He said, “Well, it’s after closing time, so if there’s nothing else, maybe we should continue this discussion tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Aimee took the hint. She was enjoying flirting with him. “Sure thing, Morton, tomorrow at three.” she said, walking away with an exaggerated sway of her delectable derriere. “I won’t be late.” She paused for a moment at the door to deliberately tug down the edge of her rump-hugging shorts. “See ya tomorrow,” she said softly. But then she bumped into the doorframe on her way out. “Oops,” she said, laughing.

Still riding high from her session on the couch, Aimee stumbled down the outer hallway toward the elevator. She had an appointment of some kind at 5:30, she remembered. Better not be late. Still, she decided to stop in the washroom again, just for a few minutes.

Her reflection in the mirror over the sink brought her up short. “Oooh, baby you look positively edible,” she thought to herself. “This outfit will get you laid for sure.”

At this time of day the washroom was deserted. Teasingly, still watching herself in the mirror, Aimee tugged down the oversized zipper on her shorts. Then she slipped one hand beneath velvet and nylon and stroked herself with one finger. When she found her clitoris, the jolt of sexual pleasure that shot through her made her gasp for breath. She started using two fingers.

Her short fuse was only to be expected, Aimee reflected as she energetically played with herself. She was a healthy, horny woman, and she needed loving. She needed to be fucked. Regularly. Daily even. It was just her nature. She had only herself to blame for going so long without a man pistoning his rod between her legs.

She had dates every night this weekend, but the first wasn’t until tomorrow. What was she supposed to do in the meantime? Her fingers were a poor substitute for a cunt-cramming cock, but for the moment they would have to do. She spread her legs a little wider and pumped faster. When she came, her shout reverberated off the walls of the small washroom, making it sound even louder.

Well, that was nice, Aimee decided, as she panted for breath. Maybe she had time for just one more before her appointment with... with whoever it was. She wasn’t any too stable in these new boots. She stepped into an empty cubicle and wiggled out of her shorts completely. Then she sat on the toilet seat, pulling her pantyhose down just far enough to uncover her wet pussy. She leaned back contentedly, stretching out her long legs as her fingers again began to dance along the pink moistness of her labia. Mmmmmm, really really gotta get laid, she thought dreamily.

Aimee’s second climax was so special she decided to go for a third. When she finally got her shorts back up she still had to spend a long time in front of the mirror, making herself presentable again. So it was almost six when Aimee stepped out on the street, still flirting with the bug-eyed security guard who let her out.

She looked at her watch. She had missed her rendezvous with... who was it? Oh yes, that frigid chick from City Hall. Too bad. Anyway, it was Friday night, which meant the shops were open late. Including a few special places where Aimee could pick up some toys. She hailed a taxi.

Aimee didn’t show up for work at all on Friday. Thursday evening had been a happy bedlam of self-love that continued more or less unabated on Friday morning. She spent most of the morning just lying in bed playing with her new toys. She was still using a vibrator with one hand while she ate breakfast with the other. Then she spent a few more hours experimenting with the sexy new outfits she had bought and making herself pretty. Looks were so important if you wanted to get a man.

Aimee finished adjusting her white lace gloves and studied herself in the bedroom mirror. Now this was more like it. She tugged down the red-laced edge of her tight, white crop-top, admiring the way the stretchy material flowed over her braless breasts. The crop-top ended at about the level of her sternum. It had a shiny red heart in the middle.

The belly-baring top was matched with a tiny off-white skirt, wide but very short, held up by a big red belt. Like the top, it was edged with frilly red lace. Her legs looked mouth-watering in sleek white stockings that stopped near the top of her thighs but still an inch below the hem of the skirt. The stockings were held in place by made-to-be-seen white garters, four on each leg, with clips shaped like little red hearts. The outfit made her look like a sex-crazy teenager out to seduce her geography teacher.

Aimee spent a few more minutes fussing in front of the mirror, making sure her hair and make-up were just right. Her big white hoop earrings complemented the white outfit perfectly. Aimee had piled her blonde hair up on top of her head, letting one thick lock fall fetchingly over her right eye.

She walked in stocking feet to the door of her apartment, then slipped into her new shoes: glistening white clogs with platforms about two inches thick and block heels high enough to prop up a building. Walking was an adventure in the open-toed clogs, but gosh, she felt so sexy wobbling around in super-high heels! She didn’t have to walk far today anyway.

Grabbing her white purse, Aimee made her careful way to the door of her apartment building to hail a taxi. She had barely lifted her arm before a passing cab swerved across three lanes of traffic, tires squealing, to pick her up. “The Morrissey Building please,” Aimee said, concentrating on the impossible task of climbing into the taxi modestly.

The taxi driver, like the doorman of her apartment building, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. He kept checking her out in the rear view mirror. The attention made Aimee’s pulse quicken. She took out her compact and made a show of freshening up her lipstick. Casually, she let her legs slip apart, a little at a time, until the driver was sure to notice she was wearing no panties. He almost ran a red light.

Aimee arrived at Dr. Melrose’s office an hour early and horny as hell. Holly wasn’t at her usual place behind the receptionist’s desk. There was only one person relaxing in the lovely waiting room, a stacked, thirtyish woman with endless ringlets of platinum blonde hair. She was clutching a teddy bear and reading a teen fashion magazine. She looked up at Aimee and smiled vacantly.

The door to Dr. Melrose’s inner office opened and Holly stepped out, smoothing her clothing. She looked stunning in a black Spandex minidress and high black boots. The stretchy fabric contrasted fetchingly with her bright blonde hair.

“Aimee! Look at you, girl!” Holly exclaimed when her eyes landed on the other woman. “Baby you look awesome!”

Aimee tittered. Her unrestrained breasts bounced. “Do you like it? I just got this yesterday. I couldn’t wait to come and show Morty!”

Holly approached her and put a hand on each arm, inspecting her like a prize-winning orchid. “Sen-sational,” she pronounced admiringly. “I guess you’re set for some action, huh?”

“Mmmm, any time“ Aimee replied, her eyes bright.

Holly leaned close. “I think you’d better go right in to see Morty,” she whispered. “He won’t want to miss this.”

“But, but there’s somebody waiting.”

Holly waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry about Mrs. Mountjoy. She has plenty of time now that she’s quit working. Hold on, I’ll tell him you’re here.” She sauntered over to the desk, casually pulling down the hem of her stretch-fit mini, which instantly sprang back to where it was before. She pushed a button on the intercom. “Dr. Melrose, Aimee from the paper is here. I think you’ll want to see her right away.”

“Very well,” Dr. Melrose’s voice came back. “Send her in.”

Aimee tugged at her clothing self-consciously for a minute. She wanted to look perfect. She minced over to the inner office door in her impossible heels and quietly stepped inside.

Dr. Melrose was fiddling with something on one of the computers. “Glad to see you, Aimee,” he said casually, “I wasn’t expecting you until—my word!” The burst of unprofessional language came out as he looked up and saw Aimee. His jaw dropped.

Aimee tottered toward him, swinging her white purse lazily. “What’s the matter, Morty, honey,” she teased, “See something you like?”

Dr. Melrose was looking Aimee up and down with something akin to awe. “Aimee!” he gasped. “I’m, I’m dumbstruck. I mean, I knew you were highly susceptible to the programming, but I never expected.... why this is marvellous.”

“It’s all for you, honey,” Aimee said. She tossed her purse away and slid two white-gloved arms around his neck. “I hope you’ll do a lot more than just look!” She pressed herself to him and kissed him eagerly. The therapist responded as she had hoped. A moment later his hands were around her bare waist, feeling the warmth of her skin as he drew her pelvis against his.

“Morty, honey, I want you,” Aimee groaned between kisses, thirty seconds later. “I’m so horny I think I’ll die.”

One of Dr. Melrose’s hands had already found its way down onto the randy reporter’s little rag of a skirt and was sliding the fabric across her asscheeks. His smile was cocky. “Hold on there a minute, Ms. Great-Ass Reporter. What about your tell-all article about me?” His hand moved smoothly under her microskirt.

Aimee just moaned in heat. She peppered him with kisses, twisting and twitching beneath his roaming hands. She wrapped one stocking-dressed leg around him. Melrosy was the sexiest man alive and she was in heaven.

“Oh, god, fuck the stupid article,” she gasped. “Who needs a fucking nowhere job like that anyway. Come on, Melrosy, stop teasing. Please fuck me!” She already had his jacket off.

He did not resist as she pushed him back toward the therapy couch. They sank onto the plush fabric, still embraced, as Aimee hurriedly began peeling off more of his clothing. When his cock came into view she was on it in an instant, shuffling down the couch to take him deep into her mouth. She sucked his member with abandon, like it was a sacred straw from which she could draw the elixir of life. Her big hoop earrings flew about wildly.

Finally she slipped off him, gasping. She moved forward to sit astride him. The sleek material of her multiple garter-straps stretched smoothly over her thighs and bum. Sitting up, she peeled off her tight crop-top, letting her proud, round breasts bounce freely. Then she reached down to take his shaft in one hand. Guiding it gently with her fingers, she impaled herself upon his length. Both partners groaned at once. Aimee’s eyes were closed. “Ohhh, yessss,” she sighed blissfully. “Fuck me forever.”

She fell into a pounding, urgent rhythm, raising herself up on the muscles of her thighs, then plunging downward again to ram his rod back into her. Blonde hair tumbled out of its careful coif and fell across her face. Her nipples stood out, red and swollen, inviting the pinching caresses of Melrose’s fingers. As she felt the beginnings of an orgasm like an earthquake begin to build within her, Aimee realized that fucking with Morty was about the most deliciously pleasurable thing she could ever hope to do.

Some time later it was Aimee’s turn to be on her back, heels pointed at the ceiling, as Morty fucked her leisurely from a standing position at the end of the couch. He had her white-stockinged legs over his shoulders. Aimee didn’t remember when she had lost her skirt, or one shoe. Morty’s wang felt divine.

“Oh, by the way,” the naked therapist said conversationally, as his pace began to accelerate, “I anticipated—ah, nice!—that you, huh, might lose, uh, lose, interest in the article.” He gripped one leg in each hand, spreading them wider. “So I, huh!, w-wrote one, uh! for you! How’s that!” He gave her a specially deep thrust.

Aimee swept damp hair out of her face and bit the back of her hand. “Oooh! That’s wo-wonderrrrrful, Morty,” she purred. “Fucking wonderful. Fuck me wonderful! Unh! Oh god, Morty darling, I’m, I’m going to come again!

“Me too!” cried Dr. Melrose, and he exploded inside her a second time.

Some time later still, Dr. Melrose sat down on the couch beside Aimee, straightening his tie. She gazed up at him, dishevelled, satisfied and utterly adoring. “Aimee,” he asked gently, “what was that you said yesterday about the Mayor?”

“Excellent!” said Dr. Melrose in satisfaction. “All together excellent. This spread should be a real boost for the practice.” He had the Saturday edition of the paper open on the desk in front of him. His own picture looked back from the middle of the full-page article under Aimee’s byline. The article presented a wildly enthusiastic endorsement of Melrose’s methods. It abounded in quotes from contented female clients.

“Congratulations, Sexy Reporter,” Dr. Melrose said. “You did a sparkling job.”

Aimee shrugged and went back to kissing Morty’s neck. She was sitting in his lap, wearing very little beyond knee-high white boots. “I hope it’s OK, darling,” she whispered. She paused to nibble his ear. “I had to fuck my editor a few times to get him to run it.”

Dr. Melrose chuckled. “I knew I could count on you. You’re very resourceful. The City Hall affair is winding down then is it?” He fondled a bare boob affectionately.

“Oooh! City Hall? Oh who cares. They transferred me to the fashion section anyway. “Mmmm, do that again, honey.”

The intercom chirped. “Yes?” Dr. Melrose responded, holding Aimee at bay.

“Sorry to disturb you, Morty,” came Holly’s breathless voice. “But the Mayor is on line 3. Oh, and Ms. Mayfair is here for her 10:30.”

“All right, I’ll talk to hizhonor. Give Mayfair a lollipop while she waits.”

He picked up the telephone receiver and punched line three. Aimee returned to kissing and nibbling, not paying much attention to the conversation. The Mayor seemed interested in some sort of group rate for all the women in the planning department. Aimee thought that was a great idea. Those chicks were so uptight.

Aimee was hoping Melrosy would fuck her again before she had to go back to work, but there probably wasn’t time. She would have to survive until her date with that sports guy this evening. The conversation with the Mayor was brief. Immediately there was another call, from a client.

Aimee began to fidget. She could feel Melrosy’s beautiful cock through his suit trousers, pressing against her bare leg. It was just too good to waste. Gracefully, she slid down off the chair until she was kneeling between his legs, her shiny white bootheels protruding behind her. Red-nailed fingers pulled his zipper down.

Dr. Melrose stroked her hair, like he was petting an affectionate cat, as Aimee found his member and eased it free. She began to salivate. With a quiet sigh she leaned forward and took him in as deep as she could. As Dr. Melrose explained to his client, somewhat brokenly, how she could have half of her paycheck deposited automatically to his account each month, Aimee licked and tongued and sucked and sucked. She closed her eyes, shutting out all stimulation unrelated to sucking Morty’s magnificent cock.

Swirling patterns of color danced behind her eyes.