The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The King Experience

Dinner at Michael’s

Martin called a few minutes late, but that was just fine with Tracy. It gave her extra time to tease her brother with different clothing choices and a few innocent glimpses of nudity between. She started slow, nothing too overtly sexual. “Just a date, you know?” clothes, but she was getting to Jason. She could see it in his eyes and the way he was breathing.

Then she pulled the shirt off as she walked out of this room and back to hers, turning to give him a flash of boob.

“Uh… Trace?” he said the second time, probably assuming the first to be just good luck, but he didn’t walk away on the third or fourth such accident. He did stare gap-mouthed as her top “fell” open in plain view while she wasn’t wearing a bra, but mostly he squirmed and tried to hide the effect she had on him.

Giggle! My own brother wants me!

She stood in front of him, a white blouse framing her stiff-nipple-capped tits as they lifted and lowered with every breath she took. The stepped closer and leaned over, her strangely heavy breasts dangling in front of his eyes for a moment before she lowered herself, visions of a hard cock sliding into her mouth. The only thing that separated her from what she wanted more than anything in the world was a thin barrier of straining denim held together by a button and a zipper.

She licked her lips and the phone rang. She bounced to her feet, not fully aware of how she’d gotten on her knees.

She did her top up in front of her mirror. The white, sleeveless blouse fit like a glove, showing enough cleavage to attract second and third glances and the red polka dots kept it from being too boring. Jason’s bulging eyes and crotch were proof of that.

This time she had a bra on underneath, but it wasn’t much of one, more a decoration than anything else. It was freaky how snugly it fit, being a seeing as she’d gotten it off the rack where a D-cup should have been. When she positioned herself just right, she figured her target would see a bit of lace either through the neck or between the arm and the cotton fabric.

She’d agonized over shorts or skirt almost forever and on that, Jason was no help. His eyes glazed over about the same. Both showed off about the same amount of leg, but the shorts better showcased the curvaceous ass of which she was so proud. They also gave her an extra something to strip off when she got the chance: Panties. She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the point of wearing anything under a skirt. It just felt so wrong. So useless.

Unless you wanted to slow down a strip tease.

OK. So maybe there was a point to panties—sexual stimulation. Some guys got off on them, she supposed. Some girls, too. Red silk pressed tightly against her moist lips by her tight shorts softly stroked her throbbing clit with every one of her leggy strides. By the time she’d reached the door, her mind was empty. Her pussy was doing all of her thinking, and it was hungry.

Martin was somewhere in his thirties, but fit and cleanly shaven, he didn’t look over twenty five. At the very least, Jason didn’t pay any attention when Tracy met Martin at the door. She looked him over, admiring how he filled out his blue blazer, white shirt, and jeans. Especially the jeans. She leaned into him standing on her toes, plus the extra two inches of platform from her shoes to reach his ear. Her full, round boobs pressed into him for mutual pleasure, and she whispered, “As soon as we get off my block, I’m going to suck this off.” To emphasize “this,” her fingers traced up his thickening shaft. Hard as diamonds, her sensitive nipples slid down his chest as she lowered her head out of the clouds.

“All right,” came Martin’s reply. He offered his arm and said, “Let’s go.”

Slip-slide, slip-slide-slip-slide went her slick panties against her clit. A flood of pussy juice washed away the clarity that came from standing still in an instant. Martin opened the car door for her and helped her in.

Quickly she checked herself in the vanity mirror. Her eyes lacked focus, and her face was flushed, but otherwise she looked fine. “Too fine,” she whispered, her hand kneading the crotch of her shorts.

Martin took his seat, smiled at her, and asked, “How are you doing? You look lovely.”

She looked him in the eye. “Lovely. Uhm. You look gorgeous!” She watched the muscles play beneath his jacket as he put the car into gear, then reached over and tried to open up his pants.

“Hey! I gotta drive here.”

“Park. I need to feel it!” She slipped under his arms and attacked his belt buckle.

“You’re crazy, you know that? Mike keeps saying I should date younger women, and now I see why!”

“Mike’s a smart guy. Bet he gets lots of pussy!” The belt was out of her way and compared to it, the zipper was easy. In fact, His cock’s so big it’s helping! Maybe I should date older guys. Or porn stars!

“You can say that again. Mike’s so slick give him thirty seconds and he’d have a nun panting and begging to pose for an anal shoo—”

Martin cut off into an “ooooh!” as she lashed the tip of his enormous cock with her tongue.

“How was that?” she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she pursed her lips into a wide “O” and slid down slowly, sucking his cock in and leaving a trail of pink lipstick.

“Fuhhhck,” he moaned. Tracy’s head began to bob in his lap at an excruciatingly unhurried rate. Martin’s right hand slipped off of the wheel and onto her head, winding its fingers into her hair to guide her into a quicker pace. His hips thrust unconsciously, and he pulled the car over because he had to before he drove into something.

And that’s exactly when Tracy kicked into high gear, and soon Martin’s whole body was helping her feed. His back arched and his award-winning ass thrust. His hands wove tighter into her red locks. Grunts and groans played a slutty symphony through her brain, and the taste of his pre-cum had her soaring.

Now she regretted the shorts. She needed something, a finger even, in her cunt. She did what she could from the outside, her right hand squeezing between her spread legs as her hips did the wave.

With a deep cry, Martin shot in her mouth, but unlike with Rob, she didn’t swallow. Not right away. Tracy wanted, needed, to savor the flavor. Carefully, she licked him clean and the sat up and leaned back, her eyes closed and her lips locked in a blissful smile.

“Oh Jesus! Where did you learn that?”

“Good?” she asked. Then her tongue shot out to corral and recover the cum that escaped her mouth and dripped down her chin.

Martin stared stupidly. “I don’t think I ever came that fast or that hard. Ever.” He struggled to get his dick back in his pants because it wasn’t done yet, even after the most explosive orgasm of his life. Just remembering it kept him throbbing and stiff, demanding more.

Tracy’s neck pulsed as his ejaculate slid down her to her stomach. She shuddered with pleasure and cleared her throat to speak. “Think I could do porn?”

He nodded instantly and blurted, “Hell yes!” before his brain caught up. “You’d be dangerous, though. A guy in porn can’t allow himself to ejaculate that quickly, and you don’t give him much choice. A scene could last for hours, and he has to be ready the whole time. Movie blow jobs just look good. They don’t feel like anything. You can’t afford your co-star popping half way through.”

“Oh.” Tracy frowned. “Takes all the fun out of it.”

“That it does.” Martin took the care out of park and accidentally peeled out getting back on the road because Tracy dove back between his legs.

“Bet I could get him hard again, though!” She could and did. And she took her time. It’d be real cool to keep a guy going for hours!

When she got out of the car, Tracy noticed that her tits jiggled beneath her top way more than they normally did, but that was OK. She wasn’t wearing much of a bra and she was going to lose it at the earliest opportunity. It just didn’t fit. It wasn’t like she had any bras that fit anymore because they all shrunk—even the new one and it was way bigger than usual. What the hell, though. The guy she was going out with was a porn star. It wasn’t like she had anything he hadn’t already seen writ larger. Still, they looked big when she leaned over. Really big. They felt big, too, but that was nuts.

Not that big boobs wouldn’t be cool. It was about the only thing she was missing. From the flame red hair she had piled atop her head and held with a simple clip to the feet that strutted around like she’d been born in high heels, she was fucking hot! Her legs scissored, her hips swayed, and her tits bounced softly. But Martin couldn’t pull his eyes off her round, white cotton-clad ass.

“You’re awful quiet, Martin,” said Tracy.

“Sorry,” he replied. “Lost in thought.”

“A good thought, I bet.” She raised her sunglasses and used them to push the gorgeously wavy hair back from her face. “You’ve been staring at my butt since we got out of the car.”

“How’d…?”

She pointed at the door to Michael’s. The bright sun on the outside and the dim lighting inside turned the glass separating the inside from the out into a mirror.

“You’ve got a nice package, Martin.”

“You already knew that.”

“Mmmmm…. I only got to see—and taste—the upper half. Sort of an appetizer. For dessert, I’m eating the whole thing!”

“I hope I’m up to it,” said Martin, opening the door for her.

“You will be.” Her smile showed all the confidence in the world. “How about we find a bush or something so I can take care of that for you?”

Martin gestured inside, and Tracy pouted flirtatiously.

The hostess, a cute little number not legal to serve alcohol but still legal enough for Tracy to want in her bed at some point in the near future, greeted them and escorted the two back to Martin and Mike’s usual table. Mike wasn’t there—Tracy couldn’t wait to meet him—but someone else was.

Something about Kirstin hit Tracy hard and left her dizzy. She exuded raw sex, an invitation to pleasure that no one could ignore. Especially not someone in the condition sucking off Martin and a hard day at work had left Tracy.

The white-blonde was in her late twenties or early thirties. Tracy had a hard time telling exactly where because of the care and attention lavished on presentation. This Kirstin was a finely machined piece of work. Everything—hair, blush, lashes, and even her lusty expression—was in its place, worn and used with deliberation. Tracy had never seen anyone so artistically fake in her life.

A model for sure and probably a porn star at that, she looked like she lived her life on the job. At any time a photographer could pop out of nowhere and Kirstin would be ready.

She could be dead and her boobs would still be ready. Half on display through her blazer, two globes of tanned flesh jutted from her chest practically ignoring the lift from her lacy bra. It had more sag than her tits did. They weren’t artistic at all. They looked as though scientifically calculated to attract the attention of the largest possible selection of the male population. But that made a certain amount of twisted sense. According to Martin, she was a doctor. One of the best cosmetic surgeons in the business.

Martin seemed immune to her charms, but in his job, he probably saw fake boobs by the truckload. Tracy smiled. He didn’t ignore mine, but then mine aren’t fake! I’m also not totally mental. Who throws away a multimillion dollar medical practice to make tittie flicks?

I wish I had the guts to set my tits done. Have the breasts I’ve always dreamed of. A rack that would make Molly jealous. God, she’s making me wet! They look fantastic!

Kirstin had a similar comment when the topic came up. “Yours look fantastic! I wish I found a surgeon half that good!”

“My what?”

“Your boob job! It’s—”

“I haven’t had one.”

Kirstin smiled knowingly and winked. “No wonder they look so fine. You wear what? A Double D?”

“B-cup, but lately I’ve been having a hard time finding a good fit.”

Kirstin laughed, dropping out of character for an instant. “I’ll say! Next time you get fitted, start with the larger stuff.”

“Ya. But I don’t know what’s wrong. I work in a bra shop, for crying out loud.”

“Riiight. Can Marty and I talk business for a few minutes before Mike gets here?”

Tracy shrugged. “Uh OK.” She felt her breasts move under her top and their weight lift. Maybe she had grown into a full C-cup, somehow, But D? Never! Double D? Get real!

“Marty, my screen time has gone way down lately. Am I getting squeezed out?”

“Nah. Mike probably doesn’t want to look like he’s playing favorites with his girlfriend. Dating inside the company can get real ugly.”

“Is this the Marty with the CMA talking or the Marty with the Rod of Lordly Might?”

From the chuckle, obviously it was a big dick joke, but Tracy didn’t get it. “You’re a CMA?”

“Yeah?”

“Wow! I thought accountants were supposed to be dull! My dad sure is!”

“They are. That’s why I do a little of it as possible.”

“He mostly directs these days. When was the last time you stepped in front of the camera, Marty?”

“Been a while.”

“You did that one scene with—” Kirstin glanced at Tracy and cut off. “Should I just talk to Mike?”

“Do it at the office. The more business-like, the better.”

“Duh. I want the good roles, not the whiny diva. It’s hard enough getting anything but MILF at er… My age. She went silent, the waiter came, took the drink order, and left. Kirstin watched Tracy looking around, and then she stopped and stared at the moldings around the opposite booth.

“Hey, Marty, Is this where you filmed the end of The Stage Magician?”

“Nah. They wouldn’t let me, but I mocked it up as closely as I could without blowing the budget.”

“Nice. So the magician, his assistant, and the hypnotized hostess getting it on…. That’s, like, a fantasy of yours?”

Martin rolled his eyes when Tracy looked at him. “I saw it happen once.” He met Kirstin’s unbelieving stare. “Seriously! This young couple came in, both a couple of model-class lookers, ordered dinner, and I guess they decided to take advantage of the slow night. While waiting for the appie, the lady slid under the table and in nothing flat had her guy moaning and squirming.”

“She sucked him off in the restaurant?” asked Tracy, wide-eyed and hot from the detail added by her imagination. “Didn’t they get caught?”

“Yup. The hostess looked in on them a few minutes later, and she—”

“Same hostess as today?”

“Nah. This was years ago. The old guy who runs this place has an eye like Mike’s—must run with the name—but he went beyond the call of duty on her. She had a rack that would make KC jealous, and legs that didn’t quit, and hair so red it made her look like a volcano about to blow with it all piled up.”

“KC?” asked Tracy, wondering how she’d look with her hair up with dangly red ringlets framing her face. Martin would probably have me naked on the table by now!

“One of Mike’s Exes,” Kirstin explained. “She does big boob fetish stuff. Sounds like Mike should have signed your hostess up to a long-term contract.”

“This was before Mike. Six-seven years ago. Anyway, instead of raising a fuss, the hostess—Janie or something—stood dazed for a minute, then joined in and they had a three-way on the table. Damnedest thing I ever saw, and probably the only fantasy of mine that made it into my movies.”

Tracy caught Kirstin’s eye and winked. Then she slid under the table. Martin was already rock hard from reliving his personal wet-dream and straining his belt buckle, but the metal clasp and leather band didn’t slow Tracy down any more than it had in the car. The real problem came from the table. She kept banging her head. Decidedly unsexy. She dismissed the slither of fabric at first as Martin responding favorably, but then Kirstin tapped her on the shoulder.

“Pull it down and go back and forth.”

“Huh?” Tracy mumbled around the meat in her mouth. She carefully lifted off of Martin.

“Watch!” The porn star took Martin’s shaft in her hand and angled it downward.

“Kristin, that the hell are you doing?”

“Showing the kid the ropes.” She pumped the huge, hard cock a few times and licked the head. “You didn’t complain when she was doing this.

“OK, so you can’t get your head in action the way you are used to,” said Kristin, preaching what she was about to practice. “So focus on what you can do and play the shaft with your hand.”

“This isn’t school,” hissed Martin. His legs tensed as two tongues teased the tip and toyed their way down toward his balls.

Tracy looked her co-conspirator in the eyes and giggled. The motion rippled around Martin’s dick and he squirmed. Then it hit her!

“Can I try something, Kirstin?”

“Knock yourself out.” The blonde porn star sat back, a really strange look on her face. She looked to Tracy like she was about to explode, but was confused as to why.

Tracy got onto her hands and knees. She tilted her head back and took Martin into her mouth, sliding forward slowly, swallowing more and more of his irregularly large dick down her throat. When she reached the root, she pulled back and set a rhythm. Her breasts spilled out of her insignificant bra, pulled her top into her back, and swayed with the rocking motion. They weighed a lot. Maybe she had grown. Maybe even into a C-cup.

Fingers played with the bottom of her shorts while lips attacked the round globes of ass peeking out from under the white cotton.

“You had to wear shorts and make this hard for me, didn’t you?” asked Kirstin.

To Tracy, it was a distraction. The adult model wasn’t getting the shorts off without help, and Tracy wasn’t giving it until after Martin popped all over her face. And that was to get a helping of cock, not tongue. Still, the busty, blonde porn star’s teasing strokes through the tight fabric were well placed and increasingly appreciated. Her touch slowly rubbed the silk protecting Tracy’s modestly against her swollen, throbbing clit in a way that walking in tight clothes couldn’t match.

Her mind began to wander. A go with Kirstin wouldn’t be so bad, but it was distracting her from Martin. It was making her speed up and not spend so much time on slowly building him to the kind of mighty eruption she’d caused in the car. She started to twitch, her hips thrusting her crotch into Kirstin’s hand. Moans burbled out her mouth and down Martin’s cock. She couldn’t help it.

Her body exploded and she screamed. She arched automatically, needing to stretch and then pulled instinctively back to breathe as cum pumped into her mouth. Tracy gulped the white nectar down along with air as her body shook. Kirstin’s fingers rapidly rubbed Tracy’s gushing pussy through her drenched shorts, and the young redhead screamed again, spitting the bulk of her mouthful of semen. It dribbled down her chin and neck as she bucked against the hand that would not stop in its assault on her mind.

She barked, “Yes!” One more time, coherently this time, and settled into a dreamy world of pleasurable aftershocks. She vaguely remembered being wiped down with napkins and led out of the restaurant to a car. She remembered more of the drive because some asshole kept her from taking her clothes off.