The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

8

Monday morning, and after dressing hurriedly in a red tube top (tight across her new boobs) and a short dark-gray skirt, Maeve rushed to school. Enough of the enchantment of the weekend lingered about her to make the guys notice and smile at her and to make a girl now and then scowl, but she felt reasonably normal–except she kept reaching to adjust her glasses, which she no longer needed, somehow, and which she had not bothered to wear.

In her first class she turned in her Meteorology paper, and then went to her Physics 612 class, where she sat for an hour and fifteen minutes taking notes. Professor Timothy Gerrold had to be the dullest lecturer at the University. A wispy, gray, tall, skinny man with enormous black-rimmed spectacles, he sat bent forward behind his desk, his glasses halfway down his long nose, and dryly read from his ancient notes, pausing now and then to turn the page. The other professors were up on technology–they used Smart Boards to illustrate principles, to write down formulas, and to give the classes notes which they could then download from the class page on the school’s website. Not Dr. Gerrold. He wasn’t exactly ancient, but he was at least forty-seven, and he did things the way they had been done twenty-nine years ago, when he was an undergraduate at a small rural Midwestern school. In a voice flat as the prairies of North Dakota he droned on, hardly ever glancing up at the yawning, nodding class.

Maeve was still feeling very naughty after her sexy outing with Michael. She idly wondered how he was doing–he was in this statistical physics class, too, but today he was oddly absent, huh, imagine that, couldn’t be a little problem getting out of jail, could it? Even with her mind distracted with fluttering daydreams of sex, Maeve was still a conscientious student, and she made notes, jotting down formulas and concepts. All the while she kept willing the teacher to glance up, to look her way, if just for an instant. Normally she sat against the left wall of the classroom, halfway toward the back, but on this Monday she had deliberately chosen a seat in the center of the front row because she hoped to attract his attention, and damn it, he wasn’t cooperating.

The boy next to her, Burke something-or-other, a classic beaky-nosed physics nerd, actually passed her a note. She glanced down at it: “Did you cut your hair or what?”

She smiled sideways at him. “Colored it,” she said softly. “And got laser surgery for my nearsightedness.”

Though she was murmuring not ten feet in front of him, Dr. Gerrold paid her no attention, far too wrapped up in his own notes (and God knew that calculating the density matrix of two identical fermion particles in a one-dimensional box was a fascinating subject).

But instead of speaking to her, Burke, the lanky acne-scarred doofus, wrote out another note and passed it over. “You look pretty today.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Finally at five minutes before noon, Dr. Gerrold punched his glasses back into place and looked up. “Any questions?” he said in a discouraging tone. Maeve couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked him a question at the end of class, because his tendency was to spend another fifteen minutes going on and on and on about the subject, circling the issue like a suspicious wolf gingerly approaching a baited trap.

So already everyone was shifting around, gathering up books, eager to be on their way out of the class and off to lunch. But this time Maeve raised her hand. Dr. Gerrold’s gray eyebrows crept up a notch toward his shaggy graying hairline–he always needed a haircut. “Yes, Miss, uh . . . .”

“Donnell,” she told him brightly. “Maeve Donnell. Dr. Gerrold, I got a little bit behind in my notes at one point, so I was just wondering if you could clarify a point or two for me. The fermion particles, now. Am I wrong, or in your example did you purposely not account for the spin variables?”

“Well, no,” Dr. Gerrold said, looking stunned that someone had been paying attention. “In fact, I deliberately ignored the variables for the two hypothetical particles. For the purposes of the lecture, you see, I was considering them to be spinless, so the spin variables can safely be ignored in this instance. What’s important in that particular example is to remember the two states involved, the ground state and the excited state.”

Maeve was wearing her shortest skirt. She parted her knees, spread them, and gave the professor a good view of her crotch, which at the moment she considered to be pantyless, so the panty variable could be safely ignored. His eyes widened, and she suspected that he had just made the leap from his ground state to his excited state.

He looked at her with the kind of speculative stare that Isaac Newton must once have given an apple that had just bonked him painfully on the noggin. Then he pursed his lips and said in a louder voice, “Class, if the rest of you understand the relevance of the example and want to go on to lunch, you are dismissed. I’ll clarify matters for Miss Donnell.”

The rest of the class practically stampeded for the door. In twenty seconds flat, the only two people left in the room out of one teacher and twenty-four students were the professor and Maeve.

“Why don’t you lock the door?” Maeve hinted with a coy sideways glance. “You may have to go quite deeply into this subject–” she spread her thighs a little more widely–“and I can grasp it much better, really get a good grip on it, if we’re not interrupted. It’s only twelve now, and there’s not another class in here until one-fifteen.”

“Yes, that is a good idea. We don’t, uh, want anyone barging in while I explain,” the teacher said. He got up and locked the door. When he turned around again, Maeve was quite comfortable. A naked singularity, one might say, with skirt and tube top folded on the desk next to hers. She was pleased to note the sudden bulge in the front of his baggy brown trousers. He cleared his throat. “Umm. Fermion particles.” He coughed. “The Green’s function for any fermion particle in external potential–”

She got up and left her discarded clothing behind, undulating her way up to him. “Why don’t you sit on the desk,” she suggested. “Keep talking. I’m listening. This is very interesting.”

He perched, his own knees wide spread, and she knelt in front of him. The tile floor felt a bit gritty, hard and cold under her naked knees. She was wearing low white socks and sneakers and an impish expression, that was all, and with her toes pressed on the floor behind her, she felt the heels of her sneakers pressing into the cheeks of her butt. Unfastening his belt and unzipping him, she was surprised to see how well endowed he was, not bad for an older guy, in fact a little longer than Michael, and Michael was a good lay. And she had been right about his energetic state. Definitely excited. She cuddled his springy cock and leaned in for a close look, breathing her warm breath on it. “Can you begin from the thermal density matrix?” she asked sexily, in a deliciously naughty and husky whisper that implied all sorts of wanton lust, “and use that to derive the single-particle density matrix, if you use the asymmetry of fermions?”

“That is a good question,” Gerrold murmured, and he began to expound on the possible ways of attacking the theoretical problem.

To show that she was paying attention, Maeve lovingly licked his cock. The veined, rigid shaft throbbed beneath the glide of her tongue. It tasted surprisingly good to her, sort of salty and manly, but not oppressively strong in flavor or in the least bit icky. With her right hand she stroked his straining rod, and with her left she reached down between her legs and played with her pussy, already wet. Her own musky aroma rose in an invisible cloud, and under its influence, the teacher’s cock engorged even more, the purple head mushrooming into a truly impressive knob. Maeve stretched her taut lips around it and sucked gently, while her tongue darted in to polish it and to tease the slit, already oozing delightfully slippery precum. With a smack of her lips, she let go of his cock and glanced upward, her head tilted prettily. “In other words,” she said as she continued to stroke him slowly and sensuously, “you’re saying that beginning the way I proposed, I really couldn’t calculate the trace in the denominator, so I’d also have to take into consideration the relationship of the partition function, the free energy, and the chemical potential?”

“Very good,” the professor said. “Yes, I think you have the central concept well in hand.”

“Oh. I see. Thank you, Professor. Ummm . . . would you like to fuck me?”

Professor Gerrold pursed his lips and considered the proposition for all of three seconds. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

They swept the pile of yellowing physics notes off the desk and to the floor. Maeve hopped up and lay back on the desk, and Dr. Gerrold, his pants down around his ankles, stood between her spread thighs and reached down to grasp her bouncy buttocks, lifting them off the edge of the desk. With little preamble, he thrust eagerly into her, and that great big swollen cock-head felt just as tight and nice going inside as she’d imagined it would. “Oh, yeah!” she groaned, arching her back to accept him and beginning to pump her hips. “Deeper, Doc! Oh, my God, split me like Rutherford split the nitrogen atom!”

In response he thrust vigorously in and out, in and out, and she writhed in sharp pleasure. She gave his rod a friendly clench with her pussy muscles. He was panting hard now, and Maeve began to worry that maybe she had picked the wrong guy for her first of the day–what if he had a coronary or something? He might be dangerously out of shape. Who knew the last time he had got lucky?

But he growled in his throat, ground into her so hard that his pubis pressed hard against her mons for a moment–that was a wonderful feeling, and she came from it–and found the right rhythm, not as frantic as poor Michael’s had been, but steady and satisfying, a long, slow, in-and-out glide, reaming her, letting her excited clit ride along the top of his cock in a very stimulating way.

“Mm,” Maeve groaned as she had her third or fourth climax. At last he quivered all through his body and erupted inside her, a heavy, scalding jet of jism, and he sighed and shivered. She rippled her pussy, squeezing every drop out, and he moaned like a school kid after his first hand job. As his deflating cock slipped out of her, Maeve sat on up the edge of the desk and pulled him down to kiss him, hard, on the mouth. Then she cuddled his head against her breast. “Suck my tits,” she crooned.

He obliged, starting with the left one. She trembled with ecstasy as she felt the flow of milk–just a few drops, so thick, and they felt so nice as he sucked them out of her. A little creamy, buttery drop appeared on the tip of her bullet-shaped right nipple, and she guided it into his mouth. He sucked and swallowed. “That was nice,” she said.

He straightened up and adjusted his glasses, which had come askew on his face. “I would rate that as one of the three most pleasurable experiences of my life,” he said reasonably. “In fact, I’m almost certain that, judged subjectively of course as these things must be absent devices for measuring the precise degree of stimulation present in the brain’s nucleus accumbens, it was the apex of pleasure.”

“Oh, you’re sweet.” She hopped off the desk, feeling his cum leaking from her pussy–he had probably been saving up that great load for years, maybe it would be a particularly rewarding one for Queen Mab–and then she knelt again and pulled up his trousers for him. As she tilted her head, zipping him up and re-fastening his belt, she asked seriously, “Listen, Dr. Gerrold, do I have to come to class any more?”

“No, of course not,” he said mechanically. He shrugged and spread his hands. “There’s nothing more that I can teach you about statistical physics. You are excused for the rest of the term.”

She stood and hugged him, her round breasts flattening against his chest. He embraced her and she felt his strong hands massaging her bottom. “Oh, goody! And do I get an A for the course?”

He smiled and kissed her on the nose. “Of course you do, my dear.”

“Thank you,” she said.

While he gathered up his notes, Maeve got dressed. She left the classroom first and bopped down the hall, looking forward to a light lunch in the Student Union cafeteria. It seemed to her to her as if the remainder of her college career was going to shape up very nicely indeed.

9

That was a very odd (though stimulating) day in the Physics Department. Later Maeve heard that some freshman girl had been arrested by the campus police for indecent exposure, and that the campus cop car later was seen parked in an isolated slot, rocking violently. By four that afternoon, she had learned that she had A’s in all of her classes and no longer needed to attend for the last three weeks of the semester. She had also collected six more male orgasms for Queen Mab and had been suckled by six more male teachers, who would now be very pliable to any suggestion from her. She returned home with a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done.

A persistent spring rain had rolled in from the Atlantic, and when she got home, Maeve saw that Deena’s old Saab and Nancy’s practical Hyundai had nabbed the spots closest to the front door. Oh, well, rain never hurt anyone. She got out in a subtropical downpour and strolled up to the house. Nancy, the architecture major, was swabbing the foyer with a mop and looked up as Maeve came in. “Oh, geez,” she said. “You’re all wet! Don’t drip too much, I’ve just cleaned up after myself.”

“Okay,” Maeve said, standing in the doorway, just under the protection of the eaves. “I’ve got an idea.” She crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her tube top, and pulled the soaking garment up and over her head. She shook her hair out, knowing it would bounce back into perfect shape, and then hooked her thumbs into her skirt waist, pushed it down, and stepped out of the garment. She turned and wrung out top and skirt.

“Omigod!” gasped Nancy behind her. “You’re not wearing underwear!”

“Nope,” Maeve agreed. “It’s May! Why bother?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“It’s May, it’s May, hooray, hooray,” Maeve chanted, closing the door on the rain. “Outdoor fucking starts today!”

“You bleached your hair!” Nancy exclaimed, and then her gaze dropped. “Down there, too?”

“All over,” Maeve agreed. “And had laser surgery on my eyes. I’m not nearsighted any longer.”

Nancy was not gorgeous herself, but not bad looking. She was about Maeve’s height, a little heavier, with a nice figure. But she was pale, with red hair, and she wore contacts that gave her shamrock-green eyes a perpetual slight squint, so she always looked annoyed. Looking with rapt attention at her nude housemate, she said, “I never realized how, uh big you are! And you’ve got a really nice shape. It’s a shame—” she broke off, blushing.

“What?” Maeve asked, unlocking her apartment door. “That I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Umm, well—sorry, none of my business.”

Maeve paused, leaning against the door jamb. A stray raindrop coursed a zigzag path down her neck, across her upper chest, and onto the upper slope of her delectable left breast. She scooped it up with a fingertip and sucked it into her mouth. “That’s okay,” she said. “I sort of play the field, you know? How are things with you and Joey?”

Nancy seemed almost hypnotized by the glistening drops of water that jiggled or dripped over Maeve’s naked flesh. “Huh? Oh, fine, fine, you know. He’s, uh, coming over tonight for dinner.”

“You guys have a good time.”

“Um, yeah. Thanks!”

Maeve squelched into her living room, kicked off shoes and peeled off socks, and went hunting for Tybalt. He never wanted to go outside when it was raining, so she made sure he had fresh litter in his box. He was in the bedroom, having snuggled down behind a pillow. Rainy days made him unusually indolent, even for a cat, and he didn’t even demand food. He just gave her a level, accusing cat stare: I know you’re making it rain.

“You think I’m a goddess,” she told him.

He yawned indifferently and went back to sleep.

Maeve pulled on a thin old white tee shirt, worn soft and comfortable and damn near transparent. You could see everything through it, the shadowed cup of her navel, the perky juts of her nipples. Even the tiny milk slits at the tips were visible. She pulled on some stretchy blue microfiber compression shorts that she had worn while taking a PE jogging class. With her new rounded buttocks, they were tight on her, but she liked the feeling, sort of like a friendly massage of her backside and her upper thighs. Not bad.

She put food in Tybalt’s dish. Though he was spurning nutrition at the moment, the instant he was hungry he would be furious if there was nothing there. Then, humming, she dug out the wand from the underwear drawer where she had stored it and stood for a while at the window, looking out at the gray lashings of rain coming in from the east and thinking about what she might do for amusement. Just as an experiment, testing the limits as it were, Maeve pointed the wand at the outside world. “Rain, rain, you’re in my power. Go away until, uh, the midnight hour!”

Well. Interesting. One last great blast of wind and rain, and then rapidly the downpour tapered off, becoming a shower, then a sprinkle, then a drizzle. The sun didn’t come out, there was still a heavy cloud cover, but the rain abated completely. Cool!

And just on cue, a sky-blue Volkswagen Jetta turned in the driveway. That would be Joey Carmody, Nancy’s stud. He was too young for her, really—Nancy was twenty-six, the oldest of the three grad-student girls in the apartment house, and Joey was only a Junior, a P.E. major or something—but Maeve had to admit that he did look hunky as he climbed out of his car, a tallish guy in a wife-beater orange shirt and running shorts, white sneakers and no socks, a jock with broad shoulders and well-muscled calves.

Hmmm.

Maeve went into the bathroom, stood before the mirror, and called on Mab, who shimmered into view a few seconds later. She was wearing leather. Not a leather costume, but crisscrossed leather thongs, almost like a harness that made her lush body bulge in tempting ways. “Yes?” she asked.

“I sent you some orgasms today,” Maeve said.

“We are grateful for them.”

“Yeah, well, it was my pleasure. Only I started to wonder—well, I had a lot of partners today, and you know what they say, you fuck a guy, you’re also fucking everybody he’s slept with and all—”

“Oh, that.” Mab smiled. “Have no worries, Maeve. You have eaten my food and drunk my wine. No earthly diseases can affect you, you cannot be impregnated while in the mortal realm, and your love will purify those whom you favor. In a way, Michael is lucky that you screwed him so much, although I imagine he is still walking carefully.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Maeve said. “Look, I have another question, okay? If a guy just, you know, cums in my presence, is that enough for you to get any benefit from it? Or do I have to make him cum?”

Mab was shaking her head. “You have to be responsible for the orgasm yourself,” she said. “Well, you or another follower.”

“Oh. Another girl, you mean?”

“Yes, of course. My husband Oberon collects the male followers. Of course, all they do is get drunk and go hunting.” Mab crossed her arms and looked cranky. “It’s a good thing elves practice open marriage, or I’d really be hard up for enjoyment, that’s all I can say.”

“Are you elves?”

Mab shrugged. “Elves, fays, fairies, people call us different names. Will Shakespeare called us ouphs once, which I take rather personally.” She cupped her hands beneath her bountiful tits and held them for inspection. “Are these the breasts of an ouph?”

Maeve licked her lips. “No, my queen.”

“Oh, you can visit me again soon enough,” Mab said with a smile, teasingly folding her hands to hide her nipples. “Is that all?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’ve—when I see you again, I’m really gonna make you cum, my queen—um, what was I saying? Okay. Uh, one last thing: What does it take to create another, you know, female follower?”

“The dance,” Mab said. “It’s always in the dance. And when that opens the way, she will come to me, and I will induct her and give her fairy food and fairy drink.” She smiled. “I will send her back to you as your friend and servant, if you wish.”

Maeve began to grin in evil anticipation. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

A few minutes later, Tybalt came padding back into the living room as Maeve twirled her wand a few times. “Don’t get in the way,” she warned him. She concentrated, waved the wand through the open kitchenette door, and three plates appeared on the counter, each one holding a perfectly-grilled filet mignon, a generous baked potato oozing butter and sour cream, and asparagus spears drizzled with Hollandaise sauce. Another wave of the wand, and a bottle of robust Cabernet Sauvignon appeared, with three wineglasses of gleaming crystal. Hmm. Strawberry cheesecake. And a brand-new espresso machine, already heating up.

Maeve sighed. “In a way I hate to do this to Nancy,” she confessed to Tybalt. “But on the other hand, I really want to fuck her boyfriend!” She opened the hall door, then the front door, to let Tybalt out. Then, concentrating, Maeve waved the wand at Nancy’s apartment door, whispering, “Pepper, salt, and olive oil, make their dinner come out spoiled!” She felt a little surge of power and knew that her spell had worked. She ducked back into her apartment, hid the wand on top of some books in a bookcase, and then tiptoed into the hall. When she heard Nancy wail, “Oh, no!” Maeve tapped on her neighbor’s door.

For a few minutes she heard scrambling in the apartment, and then a harried-looking Nancy opened her door, her hair disheveled, a smudge of soot on her nose. “Hi,” she said miserably.

“Hi, I just came over to ask—oh, what’s wrong?”

“I burned the chicken!” Nancy wailed, sounding on the verge of tears. “I had it in the oven, and Joey and I sort of started to fool around a little, and the first thing I know, there’s all this black smoke! It’s awful.”

Joey showed up behind her, wearing two oven mitts. “I dumped it all in the sink and poured water on it,” he said, his eyes running. “But it’s charcoal, babe.”

“I’m so sorry!”

Maeve piped up brightly, “Well, I’ve got an offer for you two! I had three nice steaks, and I was grilling them for a couple of friends, but they’ve had car trouble and can’t come over. Want to come to my rescue and help me eat them? They’ll just go to waste if you don’t.”

Put that way, there was no possibility of a refusal. Nancy and Joey came into her apartment, and Maeve sent Nancy to the bathroom (“You’ve got a little smutch on your nose”) while Joey uncorked and poured the wine.

“I’m so glad you and Nancy had your little accident,” Maeve said. “I hated to think of this stuff going into the trash.”

“It looks great,” Joey said.

Nancy came back, looking wan but grateful, and they all tucked in. The second Maeve tasted the filet, she knew the others were going to be knocked off their feet: buttery-soft, rich, wonderful. Joey ate like a starving lumberjack. Maeve half expected him to make noises like the ones in the little “Num-Num” video she had seen on the Internet, with various animals frantically stuffing their faces. Nancy ate more sedately, but avidly, too. Neither of them seemed to notice how much wine they were drinking. Once the bottle reached the two-thirds full point, it stayed at that level, no matter how many times Maeve poured a new glass.

By the time they had finished the espresso and cheesecake, Maeve could tell that both Joey and Nancy had a very pleasant buzz on. They sat in the living room, Joey and Nancy on the love seat, Maeve cross-legged, almost in a Yoga pose, on the armchair. “So why’d you lose track of the chicken?” Maeve asked. “You guys fucking or something?”

“Maeve!” exclaimed Nancy, but she was giggling. “That’s personal!”

Maeve shrugged. “I think expressing love is healthy,” she said. “And I wouldn’t blame you at all. Joey looks like he knows his way around a bed.”

Joey grinned and actually blushed. “Aw, we weren’t actually, you know, screwing. But were kinda working each other up, if you know what I mean. Bad luck that we lost track of time.”

“Good luck for me, in a way,” Maeve said. “If you two hadn’t ruined your own dinner, look at all the food I would have been stuck with.”

“God, it was delicious,” sighed Nancy.

“Thank you. Maeve said with a twinkle. “You know, my friends who were planning to come are a couple. Don’t think you know them. But talking of screwing and all, they had me kind of curious. See, she asked me on the phone if I thought a guy would rather make love to just one girl at a time or two at once, and I didn’t know the answer. What do you think, Joey?”

He looked startled. “Uh—well, you know, I guess it would depend on the people.”

“I couldn’t do anything like that!” Nancy said, her face a pretty shade of pink. “I could never do anything like that!”

“Why not?” Maeve asked. “I mean, if they’d actually come over and felt like they wanted to try a threesome, I think I could be talked into it.”

“My God, it would be too embarrassing!” said Nancy, throwing her head back and laughing.

Maeve gave Joey an innocent look. “Would you be embarrassed?”

He shrugged and squirmed. “Well, you know. I’ve never, uh, done anything like that, and you know.”

“Bet you’ve fantasized about it, though,” Maeve said impishly.

Nancy looked at him. “Have you?” Her voice was soft but very, very interested.

Joey wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Well, I guess every guy does. But I never had the, the chance.”

“Would you like to make love to both Nancy and me?” Maeve asked. “At the same time?”

“Aw, don’t tease me.”

“Sorry,” Maeve said. She hopped up. “Hey, how about some tunes?” She went over to the bookcase, where her iPod was connected to speakers, and switched it on. While her back was to them, she also picked up the wand. Not even whispering, just sub-vocalizing, she said, “Let Nancy’s inhibitions melt like ice, let her think a threesome would be nice!” She turned just enough to twitch the wand in Nancy’s direction, then replaced it. She turned around as the “Hercules Theme” by Hercules and Love Affair began to play.

Nancy swayed a little, smiling. “I love this song.”

“It’s sexy. It makes me feel all naughty and dirty,” giggled Maeve.

“Mmmm.”

Maeve walked around behind the love seat. Reaching down, she started to massage Nancy’s shoulders. “You’re tense.”

“That feels nice, though.”

Joey was looking up at Maeve. She winked at him. “Loosen up,” she urged, moving to massage her neighbor’s neck. “Yeah, just relax. I can make you feel so much better.”

She no longer had the full-whammy glamour that had made Parisian women grow moist at the very sight of her, but she could tell from the tingling feeling of her palms on Nancy’s skin that some energy was going on. She leaned down close and pressed her cheek against Nancy’s from behind, on the far side of Joey. “What do you say?” she whispered in a sensuous, wicked voice. “Want to give old Joey the night of his life?”

“I’ve never done that,” Nancy repeated, but her voice was wistful, not shocked.

“It’s easy,” Maeve said. “I’m pretty sure that between us we can do it.”

“What are you saying?” Joey asked, his voice unusually high-pitched.

“Just girl talk,” Maeve said. She reached down with both hands and caressed Nancy’s breasts, through her top and her bra. “Mm, nice and soft, Nance. Oops! What am I feeling? Your little nips are pushing out at me!”

“Don’t,” groaned Nancy, but she squirmed to give Maeve better access.

“This is a pretty hot song,” observed Maeve. “Let’s get more comfortable.” She tugged Nancy’s top up and off, and the other girl did not resist. Then Maeve leaned over and planted one kiss on Nancy’s right shoulder, another on her left, and delicately pushed her bra straps down. “You’ve got such nice boobs,” she murmured. “What are you, about a 36 C?”

“Yeah,” said Nancy thickly.

“I’m a 36 D myself. Wanna see?” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled off the soft tee shirt—hell, it was nearly translucent anyway. She came around, reached for Nancy’s hands, and pulled her up to a standing position. Reaching around her, she unfastened the bra and tossed it aside. “I like to dance,” Maeve said, her arms still around Nancy. She began to sway, rubbing her big soft breasts against the other girl’s. “You like to dance?”

“Yeahhh. . . .”

She turned Nancy around so that she stood behind her and so that Joey had a good view of her friend’s breasts. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah,” Joey agreed. His voice wasn’t the only thing that was thickening.

With her boobies pressing warm against Nancy’s naked back, Maeve was happily humming and guiding Nancy’s little dance. She reached around and began to stroke Nancy’s bare breasts, cupping them, encouraging the nipples to stiffen and harden. Nancy reached up and pressed her hands against Maeve’s, encouraging the attention.

“I’ll bet you’re getting all wet,” Maeve said.

“Yeah,” agreed Nancy, sighing.

“Me, too. Let’s compare.”

She pulled down Nancy’s jeans and panties, all in one, and Nancy stepped out of her slippers and pants and all and continued to dance to the music, completely nude. It took Maeve only a second to shove off her own shorts and join her. They danced again, face to face, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Gently, Maeve took Nancy’s hand and guided it down, down, until Nancy was softly fingering her wet slit. She did the same, parting the dampening curls of Nancy’s pubic thatch, feeling the heat and the wetness of Nancy’s excitement. “Wanna fuck him together?” she asked.

Nancy looked around with a faintly glazed expression, as though she had forgotten Joey—and maybe she had. She almost growled, “How about it, Joey? Want to take us both on?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Joey said.

Maeve whispered something else, just for Nancy: “Do me a favor, okay? When it’s time, let me make him cum. I’ll pay you back, I promise. I’ll make you cum, too!”

“O-okay,” Nancy said, practically dissolving in Maeve’s arms.

And that was how the best night of Joey Carmody’s life began.